Broken, but not Defeated
by Bright4286
Summary: What happened after Clint, Wanda, Sam, and Scott whenever they were arrested during the events of Civil War? Well you're about to find out. Companion story to Too Many Lies and Broken Ties.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my companion story to Too Many Lies and Broken Ties. I really hope you enjoy it. The story is mainly Clint-centric but will include everyone's experiences, including some that didn't end up in prison._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Clint's POV

I roll out of the way just in time to avoid being hit dead on by War Machine, who is currently chasing down Falcon. My quiver digs into my back uncomfortably and I quickly rise to my feet, taking in my surroundings. The airport that has become our battleground is littered with debris and my teammates are scattered around the area locked in combat with some of the former members of my team. I spot Natasha across the tarmac and I nearly call out, momentarily forgetting that we're on opposite sides. I'm about to try and get War Machine away from Falcon, when Cap's voice echoes in my ears.

"We need to draw out the fliers. I'll take Vision and you get to the jet." I'm about to argue, but Sam beats me to it.

"No, you get to the jet, both of you. The rest of us aren't getting out of here." Before Steve can object, I jump in.

"As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one some of us might have to lose it." I can tell he's not buying it, but Falcons pipes up again.

"This isn't the real fight." I can hear Cap sigh over the other end.

"Alright Sam, what's the play?"

"We need a distraction, something big." Suddenly, Scott butts into the conversation.

"I got something kinda big, but I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell." He says something about tearing himself in half but I really hope I just misunderstood him. Captain America let's out a defeated sigh.

"You sure about this Scott?"

"Yeah I do it all the time. I mean once, in a lab, and I passed out." I hear a little bit of mumbling but I ignore it and begin to look for the insect-sized man. Suddenly there's a commotion to my left and I turn to see none other than Ant Man, only now he's at least three stories tall.

"Way to go Tic Tac!" Falcon buzzes by me and rams straight into Iron Man, who was preparing to launch what looked like a missile at the now Goliath-sized Scott. I glance to my right and spot Steve and Bucky sprinting towards the Quinjet. A shout pierces the air nearby and I turn just in time to see the Black Panther go crashing to the ground next to some demolished crates. He goes to follow Cap and the Winter Soldier but I block his path and shoot two explosive arrows. My eyes go wide when he catches them in midair and let's them blow up before dropping them to the ground, nearly unaffected.

"We haven't met yet." I say as I fold my bow into a staff. "I'm Clint."

"I don't care." He runs at me and I swing the rod in an arch towards him but he dodges it. I throw several hits in rapid succession, avoiding counterattacks as I do so, but just can't manage to land any of them. This guy's good. Finally I land a solid hit to his gut and he doubles over slightly. I use my staff to vault over his back force it over his throat. I can feel him weakening slightly when, suddenly, he uses his claws to cut straight through it. My precious bow lands on the ground, broken in half, and I don't even have time to block his next attack. An elbow to the face sends me stumbling and the two kicks to the midsection have me sprawling across the ground. I land on my back and brace myself for the next blow, but it doesn't come because the man is now chasing down Steve and Bucky. I jump to my feet and take off after him. My heart skips a beat when I see the tower next to the Quinjet come toppling down nearly on top of the two men, but a red light suddenly ignites underneath it, holding it in place. Wanda struggles to bear the weight and she screams when Rhodes hits her with something, sending the tower tumbling down. My feet stop moving and I glance towards her, but she waves me off motioning for me to follow Cap. I pause only a moment before sprinting as fast as I can towards the wreckage trying to see if they made it out. The Panther had a head start and is already climbing over the debris by the time I'm moving again. I watch as he disappears over the top and I finally reach the obstacle. My hand reaches out and grabs the nearest hand hold and I begin hauling myself up. I can hear voices on the other side but I can't make out what they're saying. The distinct sound of electricity crackling fills the air. Natasha. My pace quickens and I've just made it to the top when the sound of an engine fills my ears. The Quinjet takes off and flies right over my head. I turn back to where I hope my partner is. Natasha stands on the ground, watching as Steve disappears into the sky. She catches my eye and nods. I make my way down to the ground and am about to approach her when I spot the other occupant in the room. Nat follows my gaze and turns to the Panther, who's just standing up.

"I told you I'd help you find him, not catch him. There's a difference." A smile envelopes my face and I shake my head, same old Nat. The grin quickly dissipates when I hear a growl escape the man's throat. Immediately I move so I'm standing next to my friend, ready to defend her at any time. His attention was focused on the red head but as soon as I stepped into the picture he turns to me.

"You! This is your fault, if you hadn't delayed me I could've made it here in time!" Without warning he lunges at me, claws extended. I duck out of the way just in time to send him sprawling in the ground. An animalistic yell escapes him and he charges at me. Natasha steps in front of me and goes to shoot at him with her newly improved "widows bites" but she must've used them up when she was fending him off. She doesn't have time to move and he hits her with unexplainable force, sending her crashing into the wall. My partner lands on the floor, dazed. I immediately move to help her but the man's attention has already turned to me. Black Panther lashes out at me with his claws and I move to get out of the way but I'm a split second too slow and one of them digs into my torso. A grunt of pain escapes me and I place my hand on the wound, blood dripping down my chest. He comes at me again and I'm barely able to avoid another attack from the viscous blades on his hands. I try to land a blow between dodges but I just can't seem to make it happen. When we were fighting earlier by the plane, it was like he was just trying to disable me and get to Bucky. But now that I helped them get away, his sights are now set on me. He wants to hurt me, probably even kill me, and right now there's not much I can do to stop him. I kick out with my leg in an attempt to sweep his legs out from under him and sigh in relief when he starts to fall. Instead of landing on the ground as I had intended, he uses his momentum to roll into a crouch and launch himself directly at me. He hits my chest dead on and I fall backwards. The man moves to get on top of me but I use my legs to throw him off to the side before coming down with an elbow straight towards his face. The bone connects with his nose and he shouts in pain. Unfortunately this only seems to fuel his fire and he comes at me with a renewed sense of aggression. He springs to his feet and lashes out with his right hand, intending to hit me in the ribs but I barely avoid it. I throw a hard uppercut towards his chin but he deflects it, somehow managing to grab hold of my wrists in the process. He twists my arm behind me and up so that I'm forced to kneel on the ground. I fully expect him to dislocate my shoulder, what I don't expect is the sudden tearing pain in my side as he digs his claws into my flesh. A shout of pain escapes me when I feel the blades scrape against one of my ribs. He releases my arm and my other hand immediately goes to cover the wound. I throw my elbow back and grin when I feel it connect with his chin, causing him to stumble back. I try to stand to my feet but a kick suddenly hits right on top of my newly received wound and I fall back down to the ground. A hand closes around my throat and I'm lifted off the ground. A gasp escapes me when I'm slammed into a wall, my head hitting the hard concrete. Black Panther tightens his hold around my neck and I try desperately to break free, but his nearly superhuman grip just won't budge. I kick out with my foot and hit him right in the stomach hoping to somehow break his hold. He winces when I make contact but, somehow, he doesn't let go. I'm on the verge of blacking out, when Natasha's voice fills the air.

"Let him go!" The man turns his head to stare at the assassin. Nat has her gun pointed at his head, finger on the trigger. "Put him down. Now." The Panther looks back at me and snarls.

"I should kill you for what you've done." Suddenly the pressure around my throat disappears and I fall to the floor, gasping for air. He walks away slowly and begins to climb over the debris that have covered the exit. Natasha is at my side in an instant.

"Clint." She breathes when she sees the blood oozing from my ribs. I glance down at the injury and physically wince when I see that it's gone down to the bone. My throats aches and I let out a pained cough before leaning back onto the wall. Nat places her hands over my wound and I gasp, causing her to remove them. She gives me an apologetic look. "I know it hurts, but I've got to stop the bleeding." I nod and she once again covers my side. I hear a noise by the entrance and I snap to attention. The man in red and blue stands on top of the debris, glancing around the room. When his eyes land on Nat and I he immediately makes his way over to us. On instinct I push myself farther into the wall, my hand reflexively reaching for my bow before I remember that it's no longer there. I sigh at the thought of my bow lying broken on the ground, my most trusted weapon reduced to a useless piece of junk. The man, Spider-man I think, pauses when he sees my reaction.

"It's ok, I'm not gonna kill you." He raises his hands in surrender.

"I seriously doubt you could." I mumble under my breath. He takes another step forward and I stiffen. I glance at Natasha and she nods. I relax slightly at her calm demeanor but still remain on edge. Spider-man has made his way to our position and slowly he kneels on the ground next to us. When he sees Natasha's hands covering my wound he visibly stiffens, but immediately recovers when he notices the skeptical look I'm giving him.

"Let me take a look." I don't move and he sighs. "I can help, just trust me." I give my partner a questioning look and she nods. Carefully I remove her hands from my side and motion for him to check it out. He hesitates slightly at the sight of my ribs, but quickly tries to cover it up by inspecting the injury. Slowly he moves his hand towards me, pausing just before it meets the flesh. "This may sting a little." Suddenly white...webs? shoot out of his hand and begin covering the deep gnashes. My breath hitches when they come in contact with the shredded skin but I immediately play it off with a cough, my emotionless mask covering my face to hide my discomfort. Soon the webs completely envelope the wound like a bandage and I stare at them for a moment in awe. Blood no longer drips from the area and I let out a relieved sigh. Spider-man moves back slightly and I can hear him mumble under his breath. "It worked." His tone is filled with disbelief and it's at that point that I realize how young he sounds. This guy's just a kid, what was Tony thinking? I can hear sirens outside and Nat glances at me.

"You need to go." She says helping me to my feet, the kid joining her in her efforts. A quiet gasp escapes me when she accidentally brushes against my injured side and she shoots me an apologetic look. "Ready?" I nod slowly and Natasha throws my left arm over her shoulder while I place my right hand over my wound. We carefully climb over the wreckage in the entrance and have just made it outside when I see Rhodes being loaded into an ambulance, unconscious.

"What happened?" As soon as the sentence leaves my mouth I see Iron Man in the distance. He spots me and walks towards us, hands clenched into fists. When he reaches me I open my mouth to speak, but never get the chance. Without warning Tony slams his metal encased fist into my ribs, right where my makeshift bandage is clearly visible.

"Gah!" A shout of pain rips from my throat and I collapse onto my knees, clutching my side in agony. Within seconds Natasha is by my side.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"It's his fault! If he hadn't kept Panther from stopping Steve, Rhodey never would've gotten hurt!" He points his repulsers at me. Natasha moves to shield me but Spider-man steps in front of her.

"Mr. Stark, stop!" I'm shocked by the kid's bravado and apparently so it Tony, who backs off at his outburst. "This isn't right. Hurting him won't help your friend." Stark blinks, clenching and unclenching his hands, and shakes his head. He glances down at me and then at the ambulance where War Machine is. Slowly he backs away, a mixture of sorrow and anger on his face. With him out of the way, Natasha turns to me.

"Clint, are you ok?" She frantically checks the bandages, growling when she sees red staining the once white covering. I take a deep breath, much to the discomfort of my ribs, before answering.

"I'm f...fine." My bones feel like their grating together and I let out a slow breath to keep from gasping.

"I swear I'm gonna kill Stark." Nat starts to stand to her feet, but I grab her arm.

"N..no. He's just worried a..about Rhodes. Leave him...alone." She looks like she's going to go after him anyway, but eventually she calms down and kneels next to me. I hear something and turn around just in time to see five black sedans coming through the entrance of the airport. I glance at Spider-man. "You need to go." He shakes his head at me.

"I'm not leaving."

"Look I appreciate what you've done," I say motioning to my side. "But this isn't something you need to be caught up in." He glances over at the oncoming cars and sighs. Reluctantly he shoots one of his webs at a nearby building and swings from it to the next until he's out of sight. Just as the kid disappears, the vans pull up next to where the ambulance used to be, it had taken Rhodes to the hospital shortly after our confrontation with Tony. Natasha helps me to my feet and we watch as Thaddeus Ross along with several men in tactical gear exit the vehicles. The first one he sees is the Black Panther and he quickly makes his way over to the king. I can Ross' enraged shouts even from where I'm currently kneeling.

"Where are they?!" The Panther motions in my direction and the man turns to me before striding over. When he's about fifteen feet from us he pulls a gun out of his holster and points it at my partner. "Move." When she doesn't move a muscle he cocks the pistol and tightens his grip on it. I put my hand on her arm.

"Nat, it's ok." She glances at me before reluctantly standing and moving to the side, but she's still close enough to choke the life out of Ross is he gets any ideas.

"Get up." He orders turning the weapon on me. I comply and am immediately surrounded by three of the operatives in tactical gear, each pointing their weapons at me. I raise my hands in surrender, ignoring the pain it causes to my side. Ross nods and one of the men roughly grabs my arms and pulls them in front of me before securing them with some type of band. The second it's put around my wrists the band melds to the exact shape of my arms and tightens to an almost uncomfortable level. I give the "cuffs" a quizzical look and the man in front of me chuckles.

"You didn't think we'd just put you in a pair of handcuffs did you? This is something we whipped up for people just like you, Barton, there's no way you'll be breaking out of these any time soon." I glare at him and he simply smiles, enjoying every second of my arrest. His face suddenly becomes sinister. "Now, Barton, you're going to come with us." One of the men shoves me towards one of the cars. "It's time for you to pay for your crimes." Natasha immediately steps forward.

"He needs medical attention before you take him anywhere." Her command causes the men leading me to the vehicle to stop, glancing at Thaddeus in confusion. He glares at my partner and takes a step forward.

"Mrs. Romanoff, you don't give the orders around here. I do. But I can assure you that Agent Barton will be thoroughly taken care of at our facility."

"I'm sure." Her hand moves towards the weapon on her hip and I can tell this is going to escalate quickly.

"Would you like to join him?" Before she can answer I speak up.

"No. Natasha it's fine." She shakes her head at me.

"No it's not." Her eyes plead with me to do something but I look away. I already know what going to happen to me, there's nothing that can change that, but I can keep Nat from suffering the same punishment. I send her one last glance and shake my head. With a defeated look she removes her hand from her weapon and takes a step back. Just before they put me in the car I catch her eye. "I'm sorry." Her lips barely move as she admits defeat. I give her an understanding look and allow myself to be loaded into the vehicle. That one sentence speaks volumes for our current situation, it holds so many different meanings. She's sorry that we chose different sides, sorry that I got hurt, sorry that I'm being arrested, sorry for what they'll do to me. I never should've let this happen, never should've gotten involved in this. It's only caused everyone I care about pain. I look out the window just in time to see Sam, Scott, and an unconscious Wanda being hauled into similar vans, casting knowing glances at one another. Each one painfully aware of what's coming. Natasha glares at Ross as he enters his car and watches with regret as all of us are taken away. A grunt escapes me when a needle suddenly plunges into my neck, sending me spiraling into darkness.

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 _So what did y'all think of the first chapter? I know it's pretty long but I really needed to get all of that into this first chapter before I could get into the prison scenes. I know that there weren't any other points of view aside from Clint's at the airport, his will be the only one in that area, but I AM going to put Sam, Wanda, and hopefully Scott's experiences in the prison as well. Reviews and suggestions are welcome are appreciated so feel free to leave one._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the long update but I had a bit of writers block. I hope you enjoy chapter 2!_

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Two: The Raft

Clint's POV

I come to slowly, whatever was in that needle must've been some strong stuff. My mind is hazy and I look around groggily, trying to get my bearings. I go to bring a hand to my head in an effort to clear it but I quickly realize that I can't move it, or my legs for that matter. Immediately I'm on high alert and my eyes snap open. I'm in a dark room with the only light source being a single lightbulb shining dimly above my head. The reason why I can't move is because I'm tied to a chair, my limbs secured with a course rope. There's a door in front of me, but otherwise the concrete walls are completely bare. A chain hangs from the rafters to my right, speckled with dark brown splotches. I shake my head when I think of what could've put them there. A sudden pain in my side reminds me of the wound I'd received earlier and I glance down at it, it doesn't look great. The once white makeshift bandages are now stained a dark red, the fabric is so thoroughly soaked with blood that it is barely staying on my skin. Carefully I shift my body to get a better look at it, groaning when the movement nearly reopens the wound. A cough escapes me and I barely keep myself from shouting in pain when my side is jostled. Suddenly the door opens, revealing Ross and three guards. The man smiles at me and walks closer until we're only about six feet apart.

"Hello Agent Barton. I'm sure you already know why you're here," he says motioning to the room. "So I'm only going to ask you this once. Where is Captain America?" I glare in answer and he shakes his head slowly. "I'm giving you an opportunity here, if you'll just tell me what I want to know you'll save yourself a lot of pain." Once again I remain silent. "Have it your way then." Without warning he reaches out and jabs his fingers into my side. A sharp intake of breath is the only evidence that his actions hurt me and he frowns.

I shy away slightly when he grabs the edge of the bandage and begins to pull it off, bring a few shredded pieces of flesh with it. I wince when the last of the covering comes free from my skin with a quiet pop. Ross waves a hand at one of the guards and he takes a container out of a bag he's holding before handing it to the man. My captor holds the container up for me to see and my breath catches in my throat, the four letter word displayed across the front sets off warning bells in my head. Salt. Ross notices my discomfort and smiles.

"Are you scared Barton? Well, let me tell you, this isn't going to feel good." He pours a pile of the substance in his palm and glances at me. "But remember, you could've easily avoided this, you decided to put yourself through all of this." Before I have a chance to react the man presses the salt into my wound, grinding it into the bloody flesh. Searing pain envelopes my side and I can't stop the scream that rips from my throat. My attacker grins and I immediately grit my teeth to keep from yelling, squeezing my eyes shut as I do so.

I take quick, harsh breaths in an effort to block out the pain and my hands grip the arms of the chair tightly. I glare at Ross and if looks could kill, he'd be dead ten times over. My anger only seems to fuel his fire and he grinds more salt into my wound. A pained grunt escapes me and I wince, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of screaming. Finally the man removes his hand and backs away, I almost sigh in relief. He gives me a sadistic grin. "Now, are you ready to tell me where the Captain is?"

"Go to hell Ross." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Your choice." Without another word he walks out of the room, taking the guards with him. Now that I'm alone I let out a gasp of pain that I'd been suppressing and glance down at my side. The skin around the wound is an angry red and is inflamed, fresh blood drips from the gnashes Panther gave me.

A sigh escapes me and I turn away tired of looking at the injury. I glance around the room, looking for anything that I could use to escape, but I find nothing. Eventually I close my eyes and my thoughts wander to Sam, Wanda, Scott and the others. If this is how Ross treats me, I can't imagine what he's doing to them. Images of my friends chained up in cells, their bodies lying limply on the ground, assault my mind and dread fills me. What if he decides that he only needs one of us to find Cap? I immediately shake my head, attempting to clear the thoughts from my head. I can't think like that. Ross needs them for information which means all of them are still alive, for now.

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Sam's POV

I glance nervously at the spotless white walls that surround me, the pristine, sterile conditions are on the verge of driving me mad. The only relief from the stark color is the clear glass door in front of me, steel bars crisscrossing around it to ensure that it won't hold any means of escape. For probably the hundredth time since I woke up in this prison I walk over and pull on the bars, hoping that maybe one of them will give way. Just like every attempt before it doesn't budge and I step back, letting out a frustrated sigh. I peer through the glass wall looking for any of my companions that were also brought to the prison. As of now I've only located Scott, who's cell is directly across from mine.

Wanda and Clint are still unaccounted for, which worries me.

The last time I saw Wanda was when General Ross arrested us after we helped Steve and Bucky escape, she'd been shot with some kind of dart as soon as they'd arrived that knocked her out. If they were so scared of her that they immediately "eliminated the threat" then I can't imagine what shape she is in now. Clint was already pretty worse for wear when I saw him last, he'd taken a pretty good beating and it looked like Natasha and Spider-Man were the only things keeping him on his feet.

Ross was already fed up with us before this whole "war" even started and I'm really concerned about how he might be taking his anger out on the other members of my team. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the man himself comes into view outside my cell. I fix the most intimidating glare I can muster on him and he sighs.

"Hello Mr. Wilson. Normally when I get a chance to speak with a dedicated soldier such as yourself I say it's a pleasure but given the recent chain of events, this conversation is anything but." Apparently expects some sort of reaction because he pauses, surveying my features carefully. I steel my face into an emotionless expression and simply stare back at him silently.

"You know, before you decided to go all AWOL with Steve Rogers and The Winter Soldier, we actually had our eye on you. We were seriously considering recruiting you onto a government run task force that could've used a man of your...skills. It really is a shame that you had to get yourself wrapped up in this, you could've been extremely useful." He shrugs his shoulders. "Anyway, there's someone here who'd like to have a word with you." Ross steps to the side and a muscular man with buzzed blonde hair and a scar above his right eyebrow enters my line of sight. He's aged a bit since I've last seen him, but i would recognize that face anywhere.

"Master sergeant Winters." I breathe out slowly. Winters had been the commanding officer of my pararescue unit back when I was in the Air Force, I haven't seen him since I left the service.

"Wilson." You could cut the tension with a knife and for a long while the two of us just stand there, sizing each other up. I square my shoulders and stand at attention out of habit before I can stop myself. The corner of the man's lips twitches upwards slightly in what could possibly be considered a small smile but it's quickly replaced with a frown. The words that I'd been dreading flow from his mouth. "You had so much potential Wilson, why did you have to throw it all away? You're a soldier yet you decide to go against everything we stand for, you sided with a fugitive." I bow my head slightly at his words, desperately avoiding meeting his gaze.

"I did what was right." My statement is barely above a whisper and I can feel his steely glare resting on me.

"What was that Wilson?" The agitation is clear in his voice and a sigh escapes me and for a moment I consider just keeping quiet, but I throw the thought from my mind. I'm not ashamed of what I've done, no matter what anyone, even my former CO, has to say about it. I take a deep breath and raise my head.

"I said I did what was right. Barnes isn't a monster, he was brainwashed and he deserves another chance." The Master Sergeant shakes his head in disapproval and anger flares through him.

"The Winter Soldier is an assassin and should be treated as such! He killed good men and women. It doesn't matter that he was brainwashed, if it happened once it can happen again. James Barnes is a danger to society and should be put down like the animal he is!" I open my mouth to argue.

"But sir you can't honestly believe that! Barnes.." He cuts me off.

"What would Riley think of what you've done?! Do you think he would be proud of who you've become?!" My blood runs cold and I glare at the man in front of me. He knows he's hit a nerve so he plows on. "Your wingman was a soldier, a patriot, people like you disgrace his memory." My hands clench into fists and I take a deep breath trying to quell my anger. "You used to stand for something Wilson, now you're no better than the people you hate. You're a criminal, Sam, and the sad thing is that you chose to become one. You're pathetic! You're a disgrace to your country!"

His voice drops low and he shakes his head. "I had high hopes for you, but you had to throw it all away." My jaw clenches and I watch as he walks away, leaving me alone in my cold cell. I slam my hand hard against the wall before dropping down onto my cot. I put my head in my hands and let out a slow exhale, trying to calm the rage inside me. I'm not a disgrace. Why can't anyone see that I did the right thing here? Bucky would've been tortured or killed if they'd caught him for crimes he committed when he wasn't in control of his own body. I lift my head and look out through the clear wall to my right, trying to just get lost in my thoughts.

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 _Well that's it for chapter 2! I want to apologize if Falcon's part wasn't amazing but I'd tried the best I could. I just haven't quite got his personality down yet so I hope you can forgive me if his part wasn't up to standards. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! I'm so so so sorry for the long update. I once again got insanely busy and I just couldn't make time to write. Even though I don't like taking such a long time between updates, I can't promise that the next chapter won't take just as long so please bare with me._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter 3

Wanda's POV

The room is dead silent, only the sound of my harsh breathing ensures me that I haven't suddenly gone deaf. I woke up over six hours ago, the stale air of my cell being the first thing to greet me, and I've been cooped up here ever since. My only human contact had been when the guards and Ross came in wanting to know Captain America and the Winter Soldier's whereabouts, which I have no knowledge of. Even if I did I wouldn't let the likes of Ross know where they were.

I've tried opening the door with my powers but I quickly discovered that it was useless due to my new "necklace" that the guards had so graciously given me after I'd arrived. Of course I'd tried to remove it at first but if I even reach up to scratch my neck a jolt of electricity is sent coursing through my veins. Apparently I'm too much of a danger to be reckoned with and they have an extremely low tolerance of the "traitors" as many of the men have begun labeling me.

The hard tile floor is cold beneath me and I pull my knees to my chest in an effort to rid myself of the chill that's settled down into my bones. My back rests against the wall and I let my eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, trying to ease the headache that's currently pounding behind them. My reprieve doesn't last long and the door bursts open. My eyes fly open and I leap to my feet at the sudden intrusion. Unfortunately the spontaneous movement starts the guards and my body seizes up painfully with electricity. I collapse on the ground, limbs twitching involuntarily.

I try to scream, hoping that it will somehow vent out the intense agony I'm feeling but when I open my mouth nothing comes out but a strained whimper. It feels like ages pass before the pain finally fades and I'm able to move of my own accord. My breath comes in ragged gasps and I raise myself up on shaking arms to glare at the source of my discomfort. Ross simply throws me a lopsided grin and motions to the guards, who immediately grip my biceps and haul me to my feet. I sway unsteadily for a moment and the soldiers begin to half drag me towards the door. I stumble and I can feel their holds tighten automatically, on instinct I brace for the shock that I know is coming. Thankfully none comes and I glance over at Ross, my hands clenching into fists in anger. He shakes his head at me.

"Now Wanda don't try any funny business, I would hate to have to punish your poor team mates if you tried to escape." My blood runs cold at the mention of my friends and I glare at the man in front of me, reluctantly letting my hands go limp at my sides. "Good girl." I'm lead out of my cell and pulled down a hallway past the other rooms, my heart jumps into my throats when I see the cells where the others were being kept are empty. I turn to Ross, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Where are they?!" My shout is rewarded with another buzz of electricity and I gasp trying my best to ride out the newest wave of pain. I can see black dots starting to close in on my vision and I'm afraid I might pass out. Just before I succumb to the darkness I hear Ross whisper next to my ear.

"Don't worry dear, you'll see them soon enough."

* * *

The stench that greets me when I come to is so rank that I have to fight to keep down the meager contents of my stomach. My eyes flutter open and I shake my head violently, trying to clear the fog that has settled throughout my mind. The muscles in my neck ache from the abuse they've endured over the last few hours and I can't help the groan that escapes me. A voice to my right gains my attention.

"Wanda, are you alright?" Slowly I turn my head to find the source of the voice and I'm greeted by Sam who's chained to the wall next to me, his wrists encased in some type of handcuffs. The chain is anchored to the wall about two feet above his head, giving him around six inches of slack to move his arms. I've completely forgotten what he asked me by the time I've finished surveying his condition, much to my relief he doesn't seem to be injured. His voice jolts me back from my thoughts. "Wanda? Wanda do you hear me? Are you ok?" I manage a small nod and I see him relax slightly.

"I'll be fine." A quick glance to Sam's right tells me that Scott is in a similar position, only he hasn't awakened. I begin surveying my surroundings and immediately realize that one of my team mates is missing. "Where's Clint?" Sam shakes his head and his shoulders slump.

"I haven't seen him since the airport." I'm about to reply when the door slams open, making me flinch, and Thaddeus comes walking in. The noise startles Scott out of his slumber and he opens his eyes. The second he finds out that he's restrained he jerks against the chains, grunting in pain when the metal digs into his wrists.

"Now that's quite enough of that Mr. Lang." Scott ignores him at first, but eventually his efforts cease when he realizes that it isn't achieving anything other than running his wrists raw. "Good. Now that that's over." He motions to someone behind him and I can hear shuffling behind the door along with a muttered curse.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and a grunt fill my ears and I strain to see what's going on. My question is answered when a man is drug in and thrown unceremoniously on the hard floor, covered blood that drips from a large wound in his side. The man curls in on himself, anticipating another blow, and Ross walks over to him. He grabs him by the hair and lifts his head up off the ground, revealing his face. My breath catches in my throats when I see his identity. One of the guards grabs him and hauls him to his feet while the other restrains his wrists with a chain hanging from the ceiling. They hoist him up so he's hanging by his wrists from the roof, toes barely brushing the ground. Clint coughs and I almost miss the wince that accompanies the movement, almost.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Sam screams in anger. Barton's shirtless form shudders as he lets out a long breath.

"Nothing that he didn't deserve." Ross replies flippantly. I jerk against my restraints in rage, the others doing the same. He walks over to Clint and places a hand on his shoulder in mock sympathy but the white knuckled grip the man has on my friend's shoulder is anything but friendly. "He refused to answer my questions, so he was punished. He could've avoided all of this if he'd just told me what I wanted to know. Which is exactly what the three of you are going to do, unless you want me to take out more of my frustrations on poor Agent Barton here. I know you wouldn't want to cause him any more pain right?" My whole body is shaking in rage and I open my mouth to spit out a retort, but Clint's voice fills the small room.

"Go... to hell...Ross." His voice sounds like his throats has been rubbed raw with sandpaper and I shake my head. "They're not gonna...tell you...where they are." Without warning our captor lashes out, hitting my friend right in the jaw with his fist. Clint's face whips to the side with the force of the blow and he winces, but doesn't waste any time spitting blood in Thaddeus' face. The man howls in anger and jabs his thumbs into the wound in Barton's side. My friend grunts in pain but clenches his jaw and turns his face towards Ross, a tiny grin etched into his features.

"I'm so gonna kill you...when I get out...of here." The man removes his thumb and I can see the barely concealed relief flood Clint's face. In an instant Ross is at the door with his guards. He turns to me.

"Consider your options carefully, Mrs. Maximoff, the next time I arrive I won't be nearly as pleasant." And with that he exits the room, slamming the heavy metal door behind him. My gaze immediately flies to Clint. Sweat drips from his face to mingle with the blood that has pooled around the waistband of his pants and his breath comes in shallow gasps. He seems to finally notice the three pairs of eyes taking in his every move and he turns to us.

"Hey." That single word seems to take every ounce of strength he has left and he slouches against the chains, his wrists and shoulders now bearing his full weight. I shake my head slightly and breathe out a sigh.

"Clint." My voice is barely above a whisper and a single tear drips down my cheek. "What did they do to you?" He offers me a tiny lopsided grin but it never reaches his eyes.

"I'm ok."

"You're ok?! I'm sorry Clint I must be imagining all that blood covering you." Sam's enraged voice echoes off the walls. "What the hell do you mean you're ok?" Clint seems a bit taken back by his outburst and he blinks in surprise.

"It's nothing I haven't had to deal with before." Sam scoffs.

"You know for some reason that doesn't make me feel any better." The tension in the room is almost palpable and I swallow, the collar around my neck bobbing up and down uncomfortably. Scott, who has been silent for most of the ordeal, speaks up.

"You mean to tell me that this happens to you all the time?" He glances around incredulously but Clint doesn't offer any explanation. Ant-man nods unenthusiastically. "Great." The man deflates slightly and sags against the wall.

Silence envelopes the room and settles over the four of us like a blanket. I pull against my bonds a few more times trying to see if they have any weak spots, they don't. The quiet lasts only for a few minutes before Scott opens his mouth again.

"What do we do when Ross comes back?" Clint answers immediately.

"Nothing." I gasp in surprise and turn to him.

"What?" The word tumbles from my mouth and my friend turns to me.

"You won't do anything. We can't give Ross Cap's location." My hands clench into fists and I glare at him.

"So we're just supposed to, what, let him torture you?" Barton's nod makes my blood run cold and I shake my head. "No! I won't let them, they could kill you!"

"Better me than them." I glare at him and, if looks could kill, my friend would be dead ten times over. He sighs and shakes his head. "If Ross gets his hands on Cap and Bucky, he won't hesitate to kill them or worse. We sacrificed ourselves so they could get away, and for good reason. Wanda if he catches them then what was all of this for?" He says motioning to the room with a turn of his head.

"We can't just sit here while they torture you, Barton, it's not right!" Sam's voice once again fills the room. Clint shakes his head.

"I won't argue about this anymore! You will NOT tell Ross what he wants to know! Do you understand?" There's nothing but stunned silence and he nods. "Good, so we're all in agreement." I open my mouth to argue but he cuts me off. "No, Wanda, if Ross catches Steve and Bucky this." He says motioning to himself. "Is nothing compared to what they'll do to them. And I'm not going to let that happen." A a tear slips down my cheek and his face softens. "I'm sorry, but this is the only way." Clint glances at the three of us as if trying to make eye contact with all of us at the same time. "Promise me that you won't give Steve up." None of us answer and he sighs. "Please." I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw tightly, anger and regret filling my soul.

"Fine." Sam spits out haughtily.

"I don't like this, but I guess we really don't have a choice." Scott joins in. All eyes turn to me and I take a deep breath, a heavy weight settling on my shoulders. A frown adorns my face and I look down at the floor.

"Ok, I promise." My voice is barely above a whisper and I glance up to meet my friend's eyes, full of disappointment. Clint nods and I let out a shaky breath, trying to keep my emotions under control. Just as I've finally gotten my heart rate to slow down enough so that it's not pounding in my ears, the door flings open. I jump from the loud crash of the door hitting the wall. Ross strolls in, a grin on his face.

One of the guards comes in behind him pulling a cart that's covered with a tan cloth and I can see Clint's muscles tense at the sight of it. This is gonna be bad. Thaddeus comes to a stop next to my companions hanging form and, with a quick jerk of his hand, pulls the sheet off of the cart revealing an array of knives, lighters and several other weapons. My breath catches in my throat and I glance at Clint who is busy staring at the table, eyes hard as steel. Ross motions at the cart with his hand.

"So, where were we?"

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 _Dun dun dun! Bit of a cliffhanger there isn't it? Well that's it for chapter 3. I really hope you enjoyed it! Once again I'd like to apologize for the long update but I make no promises that it won't happen again. Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated! Until the next chapter._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! I'm back! I'm SO sorry for the SEVEN MONTH WAIT, but I just ran out of inspiration for this story. But the good news is that I've found it again, so this story is no longer on hiatus! Hope you enjoy the long awaited chapter Four!_

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Chapter Four

Clint's POV

My heartbeat quickens as Ross pulls a sheet off of the cart that's now parked next to me, revealing everything that I don't want to see. A dozen scenarios run through my mind, each one worse than the first, and I swallow hard. I shift slightly, the burning in my side slowly intensifying with every movement. I watch as Ross runs his hand over the table, brushing against each weapon with a maniacal interest. Finally his fingers come to rest on a rod and he slowly lifts it up so all of us can get a good look. The cattle prod sudden flares to life, electricity sparkling at the end, and he turns to the trio chained to the wall.

"Does anybody have anything to say before we begin." Every pair of eyes flicker over to me individually, each one filled with guilt, and I give them a small shake of my head. We can't give in.

Ross waves the device around slightly, motioning to each of my friends in turn.

"No one?...Ok then." Without warning he spins around and jabs the end of the weapon into my ribs. My muscles lock up in agony, fire racing through my veins. I can't control my body as I seize painfully and my fingers curl around the iron chains, the metal digging into my skin. As soon as it starts, it's over, leaving me bent over and panting. My captor smiles triumphantly.

"I told you, this could have been prevented. Just tell me where the Captain is." Again he thrusts the prod into me, only this time it's in the middle of my chest.

Every fiber of my body convulses as the current flows through me, my breath starts to come in short gasps. My vocals chords tighten painfully and I can't even scream, I just involuntarily keep repeating a chocking sound. Grey starts to creep in on my vision and I almost sigh in relief, unconsciousness would be a welcome change right now. Just before I can pass out, though, Ross pulls away and slaps my cheek.

"Oh don't check out on me yet, Clint. I've got something else for you." I open my blurry eyes and stare as he reaches back towards the table. He quickly picks up a lighter and a knife, the eight inch blade gleaming in the light. Thaddeus strikes the lighter and orange fire immediately consumes the top, heat waves floating through the air around it. He moves the device over to the knife so the flame flickers underneath the metal, my heart sinks as I realize what he's about to do. In a single moment of weakness I glance over at Sam and I can see his knowing expression fill with terror.

"You know, metal is an excellent conductor of heat, one of the best actually." Ross nods to my friends, making sure that they're paying attention. "And when you get it hot enough, you can see it start to turn an orange or red color, much like this blade is doing right now." He rattles off the facts like he's teaching a class, not torturing someone. It's more unnerving than anything. "Some people use this techniques to cauterize a wound but, if you're not careful, it can also leave a nasty burn. Cauterizing is a relatively painful process but that's why I enjoy this particular method." In an instant Ross presses the glowing orange blade onto the skin of my chest. A sizzling sound fills the room and the stench of burning flesh drifts up to my nose. I try to hold it in but I can't help the pained yell that escapes me as he pushes the scorching metal further against my skin.

My companions pull furiously against their bonds, rage in their eyes. Finally my attacker pulls away, placing the blade back over the flame. After yet another unsuccessful attempt to gain Steve and Bucky's location he slams the knife up against my neck, the sensitive skin screaming in agony as he presses down harder and harder. It takes every ounce of my remaining resolve to keep quiet. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls away again.

"Does anyone want to speak up?" He sighs at the silence he's greeted with. "Alright, let's try something new." Ross grabs my face with one hand, forcing me to look at him, and raises the blade. The metal is less than inch from my right eye. "Either one of you tell me where Steve Rogers is, or Hawkeye here is going to lose an eye." I can feel the heat from the knife on my cheek, it's bright glow shining clearly in my vision. My heart thuds painfully in my chest and my breath comes in ragged gasps. I can't lose my eye. What is freaking HawkEYE going to do without one of his eyes? I blink rapidly, trying to pull away from my captor.

"No one?" Thaddeus motions to Wanda. "You? No one wants to say something?" He's once again met by silence. "Alright, you asked for it." The man begins to move the blade towards my pupil when, suddenly, there's a knock at the door. A soldier walks in, obviously not thrilled about having to interrupt.

"General Ross? You have a visitor." My attacker's face turns a deep red in anger.

"I thought I said that I didn't want to be disturbed!" The soldier tenses, extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry sir but, it's urgent." Ross slowly pulls the weapon away from my eye and places it back on the table. With a low growl he heads towards the door, throwing one last glance before exiting.

As soon as he's out the door I slump against my chains, allowing all the weight to be put on my arms. After about twenty seconds I've got my breathing back to normal and I look up at the others, who seem just as shaken as me. Scott is the first to speak.

"Clint?" I nod, already anticipating his question.

"I'm ok." My eyes fall closed and I try to take deep breaths in an effort to distract myself from the immense pain that consumes me. My shoulders already ache from the strain that the chains are putting on them, every movement I make sends a stab of agony up my arms. A quiet sob breaks me from my daze and immediately my eyes fly open, searching for the source.

Wanda's fists are clenched tightly, her knuckles white. A few tears slip down her cheeks and she shakes her head repeatedly.

"You are NOT ok! You can barely hold yourself up, Clint, please tell me how that's ok." Her hands shake from how tightly she clutches her chains, her anger is evident.

"Wanda, I'll be ok. I've had.." The girl cuts me off.

"You've had worse, I know." Another tear drips from her eye and it's then that I'm reminded of how young she is. She's just a kid. She's not an agent, or specially trained, she's never seen this. Her anger slowly fades away into sorrow. "I can't do that again. I can't...watch that again." I let out a sigh.

"Wanda I know this is hard, but we can't give up Steve."

"If we stay silent, they will kill you! Don't you understand that?" I bow my head, no longer able to meet her gaze. My companion's rage returns. "So you're just going to trade your life for theirs?!"

"Yes." I utter the word quietly, almost not wanting her to hear me.

"What?" Her voice cracks on the single syllable, emotion breaking through. I look up, facing her pained expression.

"I gave up my life, I gave up everything to save them and I'm not about to have it been in vain. If we give in now, everything that we've been through will have been for nothing!" Scott joins the conversation.

"That's not worth your life! Steve wouldn't want you to sacrifice yourself for him and you know it." I adjust my gaze so that I'm looking directly at him.

"Scott, we're constantly fighting a war and, without Captain America, we'll lose. Our world has been under attack by aliens and gods, how are we supposed to compete with that? The world needs him." Wanda's voice echoes in my ears.

"And they don't need you?" I look away with a sigh. Just as I'm about to answer, the door swings open, revealing a pissed off Ross.

"Its your lucky day, everyone's going back to their cells." A group of soldiers come rushing in and take their positions by the four of us, each one of our small group has two guards standing beside them as their chains are unlocked. I'm weak from the repeated beatings I've taken and, as soon as I'm released,from my chains, my knees buckle and I collapse onto the floor. An involuntary groan escapes me as a sharp pain erupts in my side from the impact. Ross walks over to me.

"Get up." I slowly start to lift myself up, every muscle in my body aching. Just as I'm about to rise to my feet, a kick to my side sends me sprawling across the ground.

"Hey!" Sam's enraged shout fills the air as he fights against the men holding him back, his efforts earning him a punch to the gut. Thaddeus nudges me with his foot.

"Get up Barton." Before I have a chance to move, the guards grab me and roughly drag me to my feet. The second I'm standing up, a hard jab connects with my nose and I stumble back. Blood trickles down my face from the blow and I glare. Ross leans forward next to my ear.

"The next time I bring you in here you'd better be ready to talk, otherwise... I'm sure your friends will be much more willing to share some information with me." I clench my jaw, biting back the angry retort that's forming, as I'm basically dragged back to my cell. A prison uniform shirt is jerked over my chest as we walk? When we reach the room I'm thrown through the door, landing painfully in a heap on the floor. I push myself up onto my elbows just as the soldiers are leaving and somehow manage to pull myself up to my cot. Exhaustion tugs at my mind, beckoning me to sleep. I've barely even lying down before I fall into unconsciousness.

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 _Well that's it for chapter Four! I'm sorry that it's not terribly long, but that just felt like a good stopping point for this chapter. I'm so glad that I started writing this again, next chapter will be up TOMORROW! Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! Just going to warn you in advance, this one is LONG, but I hope you enjoy it either way. There's a lot of POV shifts in this chapter, but just bear with me._

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Chapter Five

Ross's POV

I stomp furiously into the hallway, my session with the four Avengers being interrupted, and turn to the soldier who had retrieved me.

"Who the hell gave you permission to stop me?! I almost broke them, now I'll have to start over again!" The young man in front of me flinches slightly at my harsh tone but remains rather stoic.

"Tony Stark will be returning within an hour." My hands clench into fists and I take a deep breath to keep from lashing out.

"What does he want?" The soldier shrugs.

"He didn't say, I think it has something to do with speaking to his former team mates." I roll my eyes in frustration.

"Well is looks like I'm going to have to cut this short. If Tony Stark thinks anything is wrong with his companions, we're going to have hell on our hands." With an annoyed sigh I return to the room where my prisoners are being held. "It's your lucky day, everyone's going back to their cells." I'm met with a few suspicious looks as the guards come in, but otherwise they're silent.

After a few well placed punches and some choice words, the four have been returned to confinement. They're starting to break, I can feel it. When everything is taken care of I head towards the helipad, anticipating Stark's arrival.

* * *

Clint's POV

I don't how long I was out, it could've been minutes, or hours, but eventually I'm pulled out of my world of bliss. Now I sit on my cot, back against the wall, and wait for my "visitor." Ross had stopped by my cell earlier and said that if I decided to breathe a word of what he's been doing, all of us would have hell to pay. The only thing he didn't tell me was who was coming, which is exactly why I'm staring in surprise at none other than Tony Stark. The billionaire is dressed in a suit with his hair neatly combed and head held high. At first glance he appears to be completely pulled together and calm, but when you take a closer look it's just the opposite.

His eyes are red-rimmed and there's barely concealed dark bags underneath them. There's a bit of a stubble on his jawline, a stark contrast to his usually clean-shaven look. There's an almost deadness about his stance, all of usual arrogance and suave has dissipated. His hands fidget as I slowly meet his gaze. I don't give him the effort of getting up, not that I really wanted to at the moment. Every movement sends a new stab of pain through my body, my side, neck, and chest are especially sensitive. I consider pointing out my injuries, making sure that he knows the pain he's caused me, but then I remember Ross' words and remain silent.

Iron man continues to shift uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. I roll my eyes, which was a bad idea given the headache that's pounding in my brain.

"So are you just gonna stand there like an ugly girl at the prom? Or are you gonna tell me what you came here for?" My questions seem to snap him out of his daze and he swallows thickly.

"Clint, I...I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry." I scoff.

"Sorry? I thought you didn't apologize to fugitives." Tony glances down at his shoes. After a few moments of silence, he looks back at me.

"Is everyone ok?" Anger flares in my chest at his words. With all my remaining strength I pull myself up off of the cot and stand to my feet, walking a bit unsteadily towards the glass separating us. Stark gives me a concerned look when he sees my slightly altered gait, but I brush him off, concealing my limp as best as I can.

"Are we ok?" My voice is a terrifying whisper and Tony backs up slightly. "Do I look ok Tony?!" I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, my injuries already weakening me. "They don't deserve to be in here." My former friend cocks his head.

"What?"

"Sam, Scott, Wanda, they don't deserve to be here. Sam's a soldier. He should be out there winning medals of honor, not sitting here in metal cuffs. Scott's just a guy who got caught up in the wrong fight, he got thrown in here for helping us. And Wanda...she's just a kid, she's one of the good guys, just like us." Stark shakes his head.

"Clint, I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know they'd throw you in here." I glance up at him, a frown adorning my face.

"Where else would they put us? It's just like you said, we're fugitives."

"I didn't mean it like that, Clint. I just wanted us to stop running around like we owned the place." My frown morphs into a glare.

"I don't want to hear your excuses Tony."

"I'm not making excuses, I'm just..." Something in me snaps.

"Get out."

"Clint..."

"I said get out! Just get away from me!" I step away from the glass, turning my back to him. I hear his sigh as he starts to walk off.

"I really am sorry Clint." I look over just in time to see him disappearing behind a metal door, leaving me alone in my cell once more. With a grunt I lie back down on my cot, trying to ease some of the immense pain that covers my body.

* * *

Tony's POV

My hair is blown around wildly as I exit the helicopter that has just landed on the RAFT. General Ross stands just outside the door, waiting for me. His annoyance at my arrival is barely concealed and I almost smile at his inconvenience, I never did like the man. When I reach him he motions inside and I follow. We wind down hallways and past cells, I remember the route all too well from the last time I visited. Finally we enter the cell block that the four Avengers are being held and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.

Clint's cell is the first one I visit. When I arrive, the archer is on his cot leaning against the wall, his skin slightly pale. At first he doesn't acknowledge me and I stand just outside, waiting for...something. I fidget nervously as his eyes open, slightly unfocused. After a few tense moments of silence, his familiar voice floats through the air.

"So are you just gonna stand there like an ugly girl at the prom? Or are you gonna tell me what you came here for?" There's an edge to his tone that I've never heard from him before, it's cold and unforgiving. It's disturbing.

"Clint I... I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry." My apology tumbles from my lips, hardly sounding sincere no matter how hard I try.

"Sorry?" His voice is like steel. "I thought you didn't apologize to fugitives." I bow my head, ashamed. Obviously everything I'd said the first time I'd visited had hit home, I regret them now. My thoughts shift to the others, I haven't seen them yet.

"Is everyone ok?" His head snaps up at my question, rage marring his features. He goes to rise to his feet, but it's as if his body doesn't want to cooperate. His arms shake as he pulls himself up and the color drains from his face. He has trouble even walking over to the glass, his knees nearly buckling. When he finally reaches me, I get an even closer look at his condition. There's a fading bruise over his right eye and a little bit of dried blood rests underneath his nose. When he turns his head I see a fresh burn mark on his neck peeking out from under his shirt, the blistered skin already turning an angry red. I'm pulled away from my observations when he shouts.

"Are we ok?! Tony do I look ok?!" I shrink back slightly at his sudden outburst. He leans his head against the glass, already looking exhausted. The movement makes his shirt gap slightly and the new angle allows me to see a similar burn on his chest along with several smaller ones around his torso. He whispers something and, due to my current distraction, I don't quite catch it.

"What?" He doesn't even look up.

"Sam, Scott, Wanda, they don't deserve to be here." Immediately my thoughts turn to the other three Avengers and I look away, unable to face what might've happened to them. I don't hear the rest of the sentence, but I know what he's saying. It's all my fault that they're in here. It's all my fault that the pain that Ross obviously inflicted on Clint happened.

"Clint, I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know they'd throw you in here." He picks his head up.

"Where else would they put us? It's just like you said, we're fugitives." I go to apologize again, but he just brushes me off.

"Get out."

"Clint.." I begin, but he cuts me off.

"I said get out! Just get away from me!" He whirls around so his back is facing me and I catch a glimpse of a small bloodstain starting to form on his side. He sways unsteadily and it's then that I'm convinced that he's seriously injured. I have to help them. Nevertheless I head towards the door, turning one last time before it closes.

"I really am sorry, Clint." The door slams shut, leaving my former team mates in the other room. I go to head back toward the helicopter, a plan already forming in my mind, and I run right into Ross.

"Enjoy your chat?" I scoff, brushing past him and walking at a brisk pace outside. It feels like it takes an eternity for me to reach the chopper but, finally, I'm standing on the landing pad. Without a word I climb in, casting one last glance at the general. The man watches with suspicion as we take off and I know that I only have one shot. Without thinking I pull out my cell phone and call the only person left that can help the others. After two rings a woman's voice sounds over the line, her familiar tone doing little to calm my nerves.

"Romanoff, there's something you need to know."

* * *

Clint's POV

My head pounds as I once again lie on my cot, trying to process what happened. It's been nearly four hours since Tony's visit and I'm still trying to understand everything he said. Tony freaking Stark, the arrogant, self-righteous bastard actually tried to apologize. I let out a tired sigh, how am I supposed to forgive him for what he did to me? To all of us? I'm pulled from my thoughts when a familiar flash of red hair appears fifteen feet away from my cell. Immediately I push myself to my feet and trudge up to the glass, searching for the owner of the hair. As if on cue, my partner enters from the shadows and marches right up to my cell. Before I even have a chance to say hello, she's launching into her speech.

"Clint, on my signal you're gonna get as far away from the wall as possible and then we're gonna go up through the rafters. When we reach the next novel we're gonna get in the air vents and make our way to the roof." I hold my hand out to try and stop her.

"Nat hold on. You can't..." She plows on.

"There's a Quinjet waiting. Once we get topside it'll take us back to the states and..." I but her off.

"Nat, stop. I can't go with you." She taken aback by my words.

"What?" She whispers incredulously.

"If you break me out of here, Sam, Wanda, and Scott will take my place. Ross will take my escape personally, he'll beat them down until there's nothing left. I can't do that to them, they've dealt with enough betrayal already." I pause, shaking my head sadly. "You need to go before they find you, or they'll just throw you in here with me." My partner frowns.

"No, Clint, this is ridiculous. I'm not leaving you." She starts to look for weak spots around my cell, carefully inspecting every inch.

"I'm not asking. You're going to go get on that Quinjet and you're going to leave." She continues to look over my cell.

"Not going to happen." I growl in frustration.

"Dammit Nat, listen to me! I can't let them do to you what they did to me." She shrugs.

"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before." I clench my fists, trying to make her understand. I need her to understand.

"It doesn't matter! I can't be the reason you get thrown into a prison. You are not going to throw your life away trying to save me." She looks away from her work, moving closer to the glass.

"Isn't that what you did for Steve? Why is this any different?" I meet her questioning gaze but I don't have an answer. Instead I decide to change the subject.

"I'm not leaving without the others." My partner shakes her head.

"There's not enough time, I'll come back for them."

"No, I'm not abandoning them." I see the gears in her mind turning, trying to figure out a way to get everyone out in time, but I know there's just no way.

"Get out of here." She shakes her head.

"No, I can't leave you. I can figure this out, if I can just..." I cut her off.

"Natasha, please." I put my hand on the glass, my eyes pleading with her to leave. She takes a deep, shaking breath and places her hand on top of mine. The thin glass between us suddenly feels like it's a million miles thick, a barrier separating us for eternity.

"Don't make me do this." I hear shouts in the distance.

"Go." With that one sentence, I watch her heart break.

"I'm sorry, Clint." She gives me one final glance before dashing off, disappearing into the shadows.

The guards arrive only moments after she's gone, fury clear on their faces. One of the, turns to me.

"Where is she?!" I remain silent, my jaw firmly clenched. "We know she came for you, so tell me where she is!" Again I do nothing but glare, I won't give up my partner. He hollers in anger, turning to a man next to him. "Open the door." The entrance slides open and three of the guards enter into my cell. I already know what's coming but I don't fight back, that would only cause more problems, instead I brace for the attack. The first hit lands on my jaw, knocking my head to the side. The next one is to the ribs, followed by another to the stomach. On instinct I double over, involuntarily running straight into the uppercut aimed for my face. The blow knows me over and I land on the ground, hard.

I don't even have time to recover before a kick comes crashing into my side, bruising my already abused rib cage. I groan quietly as the guard who'd spoken to me earlier grabs me by the hair and lifts my head up.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. Where is she?" My only reply is the blood that I spit in his face. He howls in anger, slamming my head into the ground as he does so. One, two, three times my skull connects with the floor, each hit feels like my head is being bashed in with a sledgehammer. Black dots invade my vision and I'm on the verge of blacking out. I try to grab the guards arms, but I'm so disoriented and weak that I can do little to stop him. I can hear someone shouting nearby but I can't make out the words. Finally the man releases his hold on me and I let my head drop to the floor with a thud. The guards quickly exit my cell, leaving me bleeding on the floor; alone once again.

I sit there for a few minutes, trying to get my bearings and waiting for the pain to die down. Eventually I haul myself into a sitting position, ignoring the instant nausea that overwhelms me. I can hear a voice yelling and, now that I'm not getting my skull bashed in, I'm finally able to recognize it's owner.

"Clint are you ok? Clint?!" Falcon beats on the wall between us, trying to get my attention.

" 'M ok." I mumble half heartedly. It's clear that he didn't hear me if the continued banging on the wall is any indication.

"Clint?!" I take a deep breath and, using the edge of my cot as support, I pull myself to my feet. Slowly I make my way to the wall and yell.

"I'm ok!" I say, breathless from my most recent beating. The yell sends a skull-splitting pain through my head and I wince, lifting a hand to my head. I can hear Sam's relieved sigh on the other side of the wall.

"Good." Exhaustion suddenly overwhelms me and I have to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing. I press my back into the cold steel behind me and look around the room slowly. My eyes land on the pool of blood on the floor and I reach back to touch my head. Fire ignites in the wound the second my fingers brush it and when I pull my hand away it comes back slick with blood. I let out a tired sigh and attempt to wipe the blood off on my shirt. Suddenly my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. My head hits the metal frame of the cot and I see stars. Black slowly fills my vision and my eyelids flutter, trying to stay open. I can hear Wilson hollering my name again, but I just don't have the strength to answer. Everything slowly goes dark and I give in, letting the darkness overtake me.

* * *

In a Quinjet, hidden from the Raft's radar, an encrypted phone call rings out over a secure line. Natasha Romanoff's message is simple, there isn't much to say. In fact, the person on the other end of the call doesn't even need to respond, he already knows what must be done. So when he receives this message, he's ready for action.

"Steve, they need your help."

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 _Well that's it for Chapter Five! I hope you enjoyed it, next chapter will be up by tomorrow! Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! Just to let you know the next chapter won't be up for a few days because I'm going out of town, but it will be up NO LATER THAN WEDNESDAY. Anyway, on to chapter seven._

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Chapter Six

Sam's POV

I pound relentlessly on the walls, trying desperately to get the attention of someone, anyone. I can hear Clint anymore and if that loud crash was any indication, something's wrong. My knuckles have started to bleed from banging on the glass and still no one has come, my anger skyrockets. I begin to scream.

"One of you bastards better get your ass down here or I swear to God!" My sentence is never finished as Ross walks around the corner, a sadistic smile on his face. Slowly he approaches my cell.

"Calm down Wilson, you might hurt yourself." I slam my hand against the glass, the appendage already starting to throb from the beating I've given it.

"You son of a bitch! You're gonna kill him!" The man across from me shrugs.

"That's kind of the point. We know he's never going to talk, so why should we keep him around?" Rage fills me and I clench my bleeding hands into fists.

"If he dies, you can be sure as hell that you'll never get a single thing out of the rest of us." My voice is a deadly whisper, every bit of my pent up anger shining through. Ross cost his head.

"The three of you won't tell me anything even if he's alive. Tell me, Sam, what's one good reason to save him." My blood boils as I squeeze my eyes shut. I can't let Clint die, I just can't. We've lost so much already, we can't afford to lose anything else. I take a deep breath, slowly opening my eyes.

"If you help Clint, I'll tell you everything I know." That stupid grin on Thaddeus's face widens and it takes everything I have not to lash out again.

"Why Mr. Wilson, I believe we have a deal." He motions towards my cell and a group of three guards come rushing in, grabbing my arms. They lead me outside into the hall and before I know it I'm standing in front of Barton's cell. My friend is lying on the floor, eyes closed, covered in blood. I pull against the men holding me, trying to reach him. Ross opens the door, placing a first aid kit on the ground just inside the entrance. As soon as he exits I'm thrown inside, the door slammed shut behind me. I turn to face my captor.

"What the hell are you doing?! I said I'd tell you what I knew if you helped Clint."

"I am helping him, I've provided you with the necessary supplies to save his life." My eyes land on the first aid kit and realization hits me.

"No, he needs a doctor!" Ross shrugs.

"I guess you'll just have to do. I'd hurry though, Barton doesn't look so good." With that he turns around and exits the room, leaving me alone. I immediately grab the med kit and rush over to the man on the floor, kneeling down beside him, my knees already covered in his blood. My heart stops when I see his multitude of injuries. I try desperately to wake him up.

"Clint, can you hear me? Clint?!" I don't get a response. With a sigh I decide to get to work, starting with his skull. Upon closer inspection I discover that his skull isn't fractured, there's just a long gash running from the base of his neck to the middle of his head. There's only one thing I know to do, stitches. With shaking hands I reach into the kit and pull out a needle, thread, and alcohol.

I pour some of the alcohol into the wound to clean it, the only response I get from Clint is a barely noticeable wince. That's not good. Pushing my worries aside I ready the needle and begin to pierce the edge of the wound. It would be easier if his hair wasn't in the way, but there's nothing I can do about that. I carefully apply each stitch, watching my friend for any sign of him waking. Soon his head is stitched up and I move on to his other injuries. Slowly I pull his shirt off, revealing his various burns and bruises. My eyes land on the burns to his chest and neck that were caused by the knife, each of which are a concern.

The skin is covered in angry red blisters, the flesh charred. With each movement they rip open slightly, causing blood to leak out from them onto his exposed skin. I turn back to the med kit in search of some kind of burn ointment. I'm not disappointed and soon find what I'm looking for. Gently I slather the substance on the affected areas, making sure to cover every inch. I quickly put bandages over each wound and continue with my inspection. The worst injury by far are the lacerations on his side that Black Panther inflicted. The three deep cuts had started to heal and scab over but, due to the torture that Ross put him through, they were torn open. Blood sluggishly flows from the wounds to mingle with the pool on the floor. The skin around each gash is red and inflamed from the salt that was rubbed into it.

I lightly brush my fingers over the wounds, trying to figure out just how to handle it. The second my hand touches the wound, however, I hear a sharp intake of breath from my friend. I glance at his face to see his eyes starting to open.

"Hey Clint...how're you feeling?" I try to hide the concern in my voice but it's no use.

"Like I got hit...by a truck." He goes to sit up and as soon as he moves he gasps in pain, clutching at his still bleeding side. "Make that a freight train."

"Easy there Barton. Here." I help him into a sitting position, leaning him against the wall. His eyes land on the first aid kit and he notices the bandages on his torso.

"Where'd you get this stuff?" He blinks his eyes blearily, clearly not fully recovered from his recent beating. "And how'd you get in my cell?" I wave him off.

"It's a long story, but right now I need to take care of that nasty wound on your side." The man nods tiredly, I'm not entirely sure he understood what I said. I reach for the alcohol and move to pour it over the first laceration, I pause.

"This is gonna hurt." Clint shrugs half-heartedly.

"What's new?" With that I begin to run the liquid over one of the cuts. Barton's jaw clenches and he takes a quick breath, obviously in pain. He squeezes his eyes shut. I spare him a glance but immediately grab the needle, before I change my my mind I pierce the skin.

I work quickly, each stitch eliciting a grunt from my friend, his usually emotionless mask collapsing. Soon the first gash is finished and I move on to the next. I hesitate slightly as I go to pour the alcohol. This is worst wound by far, it goes all the way down to the bone. I shake my head before continuing. The second the antiseptic touches his flesh Clint's eyes fly open.

"Ah! Son of a bitch!" His hand closes tightly around the leg of the cot and he takes deep, ragged breaths. I do my best to be gentle, but every stitch makes him cry out. After a few minutes I've successfully sewn up the last two lacerations, much to relief of both of us. I wrap a thick bandage around his side, securing it tightly. My friend nods in appreciation.

"Thank you." I give him a nod. After a few seconds of silence, he cocks his head to the side. "So you never answered me, how did you get the med kit?" I shrug my shoulders as I start to pack up the kit.

"I made a deal with Ross." Clint's eyes widen.

"You what?"

"I told him if he let me help you, I'd tell him everything I knew." I can see the anger starting to creep into my friend's features.

"Sam..." I cut him off.

"I told him I'd tell him what I knew, but the thing is, I don't know anything." I watch as confusion replaces the anger. "I don't have a clue where they are."

"Sam when Ross finds out that you lied to him..." His voice trails off.

"I know. But at least you'll still be alive." His anger returns.

"Sam he could kill you! Don't you know that?!"

"I know." I whisper.

"Dammit Sam! You shouldn't have made that deal." I whirl around, glaring.

"So I was just supposed to leave you here to die?"

"Yes!" I'm taken back by his response. "Sacrifice one person to save many, that's how we do things." I shake my head.

"Well I'm sorry, agent, but that's not how soldiers do things." We fall into silence as I give him one last once over to make sure that I've taken care of all of his wounds. After I'm finished, I glance around half expecting Ross come walking up. Clint's voice echoes through the small room.

"So what are you gonna tell him?" I let out a sigh.

"Nothing." My friend groans in frustration.

"Sam is you don't tell him something, he's going to kill you!"

"I told Ross I'd tell him everything I knew, it just so happens that I don't know anything. He should've been more specific about what he wanted to hear."

"Dammit Sam!" He throws his arms up in defeat, wincing when the movement pulls painfully at his stitches. He slowly lowers his arms before wrapping one around his side in an effort to ease the pain.

"Hey I just stitched you up, you'd better not have popped them already." Barton rolls his eyes. With a grunt he starts to try and stand, quietly gasping with each movement. Immediately I reach out and help him up, slowly moving him so he's sitting down on top of his cot. He offers me an appreciative nod.

"I wish you could've just kept your mouth shut, Ross is gonna be gunning for you now." I shrug.

"Well you're not dead, so I'm happy I didn't." He gives me a skeptical glance. "I can handle Ross."

"I hope you're right." It's just then that the General makes his appearance, a slight smile on his face.

"Hawkeye, so glad to see you up and around." Clint glares, pure hatred burning through his gaze.

"Go to Hell Ross." The man shrugs.

"Maybe one day. Anyway, Sam, I believe we have some things to discuss." I nod, slowly moving towards the door. Thaddeus lets me out before leading me back to my cell, two guards accompanying us. I'm quickly returned to my "room" and Ross follows me. As soon as we're inside, he asks.

"So, Sam, what do you know about the whereabouts of Captain America and the Winter Soldier?" I cock my head to the side in mock thought.

"Hmm, I don't have a clue where they are." Confusion creeps into the general's features.

"We had a deal Sam, now tell me what you know." I shrug.

"I said I'd tell you everything I knew, I don't know anything and that's that." Rage fills Ross's gaze and, without missing a beat, he pulls out a pistol.

"Tell me where Steve Rogers is, now!" I take a deep breath, staring down the barrel of the gun.

"I don't know." Before I have a chance to react, he fires. A searing pain rips through my thigh and I drop to my knees, using my hands to cover the freshly bleeding wound. Ross stalks over to me, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt.

"You're going to regret this, Wilson." He shoves me backwards and I fall, landing on my back, as he retreats angrily out of the room. As soon as he's gone, I inspect my newest injury. Luckily for me, it's a through and through so there's not a bullet to worry about. Quickly I pull off my shirt and press it down on the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. I manage to wrap the clothing around my thigh once, tying it at the ends. I wince as I tighten the makeshift bandage, but simply grit my teeth and keep going. I cinch the shirt down so tight that I see black dots because of the intense pain, but I've slowly the blood flow considerably.

When I've taken care of the bullet wound, I slowly drag myself over to the wall and lean back. I take a few deep breaths, my leg throbbing painfully. My eyes fall closed but I immediately force them back open, now's not the time to pass out. Despite my best efforts, my eyelids shut once more and send me into oblivion. It's hours before I wake up, The Winter Soldier standing outside my cell.

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter seven, I hope you enjoyed it. Like I said the next chapter will be up in a few days. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! So I just got back and I tried to upload this as soon as possible, I hope you like it. I wanna apologize to those of your who are big Ant Man fans, I know he's not in this story much but I just can't get the inspiration for him. So forgive me. Anyway, on to chapter seven._

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Chapter Seven

Scott's POV

My heart pounds in my chest as I pace vigorously around my cell, my mind one big jumble of thoughts. I haven't heard from the others since all of us were in that room with Ross...I don't even know if they're still alive. Clint was already in bad shape and there's no telling what else they've probably done to him, not to mention Sam and Wanda. The only visitor I've had since then was Tony Stark, who was the last person I wanted to see given the circumstances. He tried to apologize for getting me thrown in here saying that I was "in the wrong place at the wrong time" and "I chose the wrong side." But the truth is that he just doesn't want to hear any opinions except his own, which I guess is why this who thing started.

Honestly I don't know much about the Avengers but I do know that everything I did was right. Captain America and the others are heroes, they've saved thousands of lives in the battle of New York and Sokovia. Yes, people died, but it's irrational to believe that you can save every single life when you're facing hundreds if not thousands of aliens and robots. We were never prepared for anything like this, at least I wasn't, and they did everything they could with what they were given. And I'm honored that Steve Rogers asked for my help, even when no one else knew my name.

And what do I get for helping the Avengers? Thrown into an off-the-books maximum security prison with a bloodthirsty general with a vendetta and an attitude. If I stay in this cell too much longer, I swear I'm gonna lose my mind. I've been surrounded by the same four walls and glass door for weeks, for someone who can usually get out of just about anywhere this is like torture in itself. Forget about the physical stuff, being stuck in here is almost enough to drive me insane. Clint and Sam have at least some type of training for dealing with this type of stuff, I'm just your average guy. I'm not ready to get sliced and carved up and electrocuted.

When I first signed up for this superhero gig I thought it would be full of adventure and suspense, not knives and blow torches. I thought I was going to be saving lives, not being threatened with torture and murder. I had this dream that I would get to be recognized as one of the good guys for once, but now I'm just rotting in another prison. Heroes are supposed to be the ones who come charging in head first to protect the innocent, not sitting behind bars waiting for something to happen. I was supposed to be a free man, a good man, but now I'm right back where I started. Sitting in a jail cell because of a choice that I made, even though it was the right one.

* * *

Clint's POV

My side burns painfully as I pace up and down my cell, desperately searching for a way out. I've checked every crack and crevice of this entire room, there's not a single weak spot. Finally I sit down on my cot, wincing as the movement jars my numerous injuries. My thoughts unwittingly turn to Sam. He left with Ross hours ago, seemingly returning to his cell, and everything was quiet until I heard the gunshot. Sam hasn't been answering me, I'm worried. I can't lose another friend today. I reach up and run a hand through my unruly hair, my stitches pulling uncomfortably.

Ever since Wilson patched me up I've felt my strength slowly returning, and with it, an inescapable urge to get the hell outta dodge. With a sigh, I decide to try Sam again.

"Sam?" No response. "Wilson can you hear me?!" I'm met with the same result and let out a defeated huff. My eyes roam outside my cell, gazing out into the other room. There's not much there aside from a few empty cells, then I see it. It's blended in so well I almost miss it. There's a figure standing in the shadows, barely noticeable among the array of cells and other equipment. The figure seems to notice that I've seen it, because it slowly begins to walk forward. I can't believe what I see.

Steve Rogers glances around nervously before dashing over to my cell. As fast as I can in my injured state I limp over to the front of the glass, amazed. My friend immediately sees my discomfort and I watch as his eyes wander over me, obviously noting every wound.

"Clint, what did they do to you?" I don't miss the guilt edging into his voice.

"Nothing I haven't had before." Instantly my stoic mask slides into place, momentarily disguising the immense pain that consumes me. Cap narrows his eyes, obviously not pleased with my answer, but simply shakes his head and sighs. Suddenly he snaps to attention, seemingly remembering his intended mission.

"Get as far away from the door as you can." Without hesitating I walk/limp to the back of my cell, pressing my body against the wall. I watch as Steve pulls something out of his bag and places one at each corner of the door. Realization hits me as he pulls out a detonator and glances over at me, I nod for him to continue.

A small explosion erupts, sending the door crashing to the ground. Another one follows close by and I realize that this is it, we're getting out of here. I let out a sigh of relief and trudge out of my cell, ignoring the aches and pains, and carefully step over the door. As I step out into the hallway I see Bucky helping a slightly dazed Sam out of his room, the man is now sporting a bullet wound in his leg. That must've been the shot I heard. As I look around I realize that two of my companions are still missing. Steve reads my mind.

"Bucky is getting Scott, I'm going to find Wanda." A flash of red catches my eye and I watch as Natasha appears from the shadows, a relieved smile on her face.

Before I can even react she has me wrapped in a tight hug and it takes all of my remaining strength not to wince from the pressure she puts on my injuries. Cap's eyes widen slightly at the uncharacteristic show of affection but he quickly recovers and sprints off in search of Wanda. Finally Nat pulls away, a cocky smile on her face.

"You didn't think I was actually gonna leave you here." I shake my head.

"I know you better than that." Suddenly another crash echoes through the space and I see Scott come scampering out of his cell, giving Bucky a grateful nod. I didn't realize how loud it was, where are all the guards? Surely they must've heard all the explosions? My partner notices my curious glance around the room and grins.

"Hacked their system, they should've known it was stupid to have every door hooked up to the same network." She glances down at her watch. "We've got another two minutes before they can even think about getting in here." I let out a chuckle, the first in days, and shake my head. The reprieve is short lived, however, as Cap comes running up.

"Ross still has control over Wanda's electric collar, he turned it on." The six of us sprint towards Wanda's cell, ignoring our respective injuries. When we reach the door, we're met by the girl who's lying on the ground, convulsing from the electricity flowing through her body. Steve motions to the collar.

"I can't pull it off when it's still turned on." Natasha speaks up, unholstering her pistol.

"Hold her still." I immediately know what she's going to do and glance at her.

"Nat..."

"It's our only option Clint, we're running out of time." I nod anxiously and Cap dashes over to Wanda, trying to keep her from moving. Unfortunately the constant flow of electricity makes it impossible to hold her completely still, so she still moves around slightly. Natasha moves over to her and takes aim. I watch as her brow furrows in concentration, each jolt of Wanda's body making her already tense muscles twitch. No one moves, no one breathes, all of us look on with rising panic. The silence stretches on for a full five seconds and I'm starting to think that she's not going to take the shot. Suddenly there's a loud bang and I watch as the collar fizzes, the newly made bullet hole causing it to power down.

Wanda's body goes still and Steve immediately checks for a pulse.

"She's alive." Without waiting he picks her up bridal style and stands to his feet. I glance over at Natasha, who lets out a shaky breath and nods at me, she's fine. Just as we're about to exit the cell, a crash echoes through the hall. The seven of us rush out of the room to see Ross and his men come surging through the door. My partner grabs my arm.

"Time's up." With that she pulls me towards the other end of the hallway, the others following close behind. We push open the first door and dash down the corridor, the shouts of Ross and the soldiers piercing the air.

We come to a fork in the hall and Nat jerks me to the left, pulling me towards yet another doorway. She goes to open it but, to our horror, it doesn't budge. It's locked. Natasha pushes a button on her comm. link.

"Tony we need this door open now!" I can barely hear the billionaire's voice on the other end of the line.

"I'm trying!" Why would Tony be helping us? He's the one who put us in here. "Got it!" Suddenly the lock clicks and my partner throws it open, dragging me through the opening. Bucky, followed by Steve and Scott, is close behind us. He has one of Sam's arms draped over his shoulder, helping the injured man through the maze of hallways.

My side screams as I sprint through the prison, but I push it away, there's no time for that. We round a corner and come face to face with a soldier, who looks just as surprised as us at the others presence.

Without missing a beat I slam into him, knocking him to the ground, and Natasha takes him down with a swift kick to the head. I gasp in pain as the jarring movement sends a stab of pain exploding through my side, my broken ribs grating together. My partner bends down to help me up and, in that single moment of weakness, a second soldier shows up with his weapon raised. I look up to see the barrel of his gun pointing directly at me. I know I won't have time to move, so I simply close my eyes. The gun goes off, but I don't feel any pain. There's no tearing of flesh or gushing of blood, nothing. I slide my eyes open just in time to see Scott falling to the ground, a bullet hole in his abdomen.

I immediately piece together what happened, he jumped in front of me. Before I can react, Steve's shield goes flying through the air, throwing the man into the wall. I crawl over to where Scott is lying, gasping in pain and clutching his stomach. On instinct I pull of my prison uniform shirt and press it on top of the wound, quickly placing Scott's hand over it.

"Keep pressure on it." He nods weakly and I turn to the others. Without a word being spoken Sam removes his arm from Bucky's shoulder and points to Scott.

"He's not gonna be able to walk out of here." The Winter Soldier swiftly moves over to Scott and picks him up, eliciting a an agonized yell from the man. Natasha helps me to my feet before taking Bucky's former place at Sam's side.

"You're not gonna be able to walk on of here on your own either." He gives her a grateful nod and the seven of us once again take off down the hall, Ross and his men right on our heels.

Those of us who can stand sprint down the hallways, shoving our way through doors and up stairs. Finally I see the exit, the blue sky clearly visible through the small rectangular window in the middle of it. Bucky, who's still carrying Ant Man, uses his back to prop the entrance open while the rest of our group filters through. I glance back behind us just as Ross rounds the corner no more than a hundred feet away. I follow Steve, who's now at the front of the pack, and he leads us to a Quinjet waiting at the very edge of the helipad. When we reach it Natasha throws the door open, revealing none other than Tony Stark behind the wheel. I stop short at the sight of the billionaire.

"We don't have time to explain! Get in the helicopter!" Natasha's shout pulls me out of my daze and I haul myself into the aircraft before turning around and helping Steve get Scott and Wanda inside. He, along with Natasha, Sam, and Bucky immediately clamber in after them.

"Stark we've gotta move!" Cap slams the door shut and moves over to Scott, who still has my shirt pressed tightly against his stomach. A loud crash sounds outside the Quinjet and I turn to see General Ross come sprinting out onto the roof, thoroughly pissed. We lift off just as he reaches the chopper and he makes a grab for one of the landing skids, barely missing as we climb into the air. With a jolt we speed off away from the raft, leaving the man shouting on the landing pad. Once I know we're in the clear I turn back to the others. Bucky's pulled a first aid kit out from under the pilot seat and is now ruffling through its contents.

He pulls out a package of blood clotting powder and tosses it to Steve, who immediately starts applying it to Scott's bullet wound. Bucky removes the t-shirt from Sam's leg and does the same. I try to stay focused on my friends' condition, but my eyes keep drifting to the man in the pilot seat. Anger boils inside me as I glance at the man who effectively ruined mine, and everyone else's, lives. Natasha takes notice of the situation and places a hand on my arm, shaking her head.

"Not now." She whispers. "We'll explain everything once we land." I look over, rage creeping into my features.

"There's nothing to explain, Tony threw us to the wolves and that's that." She opens her mouth to speak, but I shake my head.

"He handed us over to Ross, he betrayed us. And this.." I motion to the man flying the helicopter. "This isn't going to make up for that. He may be helping us now, but if he hadn't thrown us in that jail we wouldn't be in this position." Nat sighs.

"He had his reasons..." I cut her off.

"No, Nat, just no. Tony made his choice, there's no changing that now."

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter Seven! I hope you guys loved it. Unfortunately I will be unable to post tomorrow, so the next chapter will be up in a few for reading. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this chapter but this is all I could get done. I just started a new job so I've got to get used to the schedule, but it won't be too much of a problem I hope. Anyway, on to chapter Eight!_

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Chapter Eight

Natasha's POV

The waiting room outside the infirmary of Fury's most recent underground S.H.I.E.L.D base is silent, empty except for myself and the billionaire sitting in the chair next to mine. Steve and Bucky had to leave as soon as we touched down, they're still fugitives after all, and they didn't know who they could trust to keep their arrival a secret. Apparently they have a safe place to go until all of this blows over. Scott, Wanda, and Sam were all taken to the infirmary the second we landed, Clint as usual refusing to let a doctor look at him until he knew that everyone else was taken care of.

Now the four of them are either in surgery or in a hospital bed for observation, much to the protest of both Sam and Clint. Scott passed out right before we arrived and Wanda is still a little bit out of it, so they haven't complained about their accommodations. The doctor came in a few minutes ago and gave us the diagnosis for each of them. They all will heal physically after some therapy, there shouldn't be any lasting effects from anyone's wounds, but he didn't say anything about their emotional state. Clint and Sam I'm not as worried about, both of them had at least some training on how to handle this type of situation. It's Scott and Wanda that have me the most concerned.

Scott has no training whatsoever, he just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Wanda's still just a kid, she shouldn't have been put in the position to see one of her team mates tortured right before her eyes. I'll have to keep a close eye on the two of them in the days to come to make sure they come out of this ok.

Tony shifts in his seat and I glance over to see him wringing his hands together nervously.

"Stark?" My voice seems to snap the man out of his daze and he turns to me.

"Hmm?" I give him a questioning look and he shakes his head. "I'm fine." He looks away and goes back to wringing his hands, only it's less noticeable this time. After a few moments of silence, he speaks up again.

"They're never going to forgive me."

"Well you gave them a pretty good reason not to." The hostility in my tone is obvious and Stark sighs.

"If I had known what Ross was going to do to them I never would've..." I cut him off, anger that I've been trying to suppress resurfacing.

"Thrown them in prison? Betrayed them? Turned them into fugitives."

"I didn't betray anyone. They turned their backs on me by siding with Steve."

"Turned their backs on you?! You asked them to give up everything they believe in! You put them in the position where it was either you or Steve!" I stand from my seat, rage filling me. "And you know what, I wish I'd chosen Cap." Tony jumps up.

"Well then why didn't you?! Why did you pick me over him?!"

"Because I thought you were right." I hiss menacingly. "I thought that we needed to be reigned in to keep people safe, to keep people alive. But if that means that we have to sacrifice some of the last good people in this world, then it isn't worth it!" I take a step away from him, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work.

"All that Clint, and Steve, and Wanda, and everyone else wanted to do was help people and you treated them like criminals. You told them that they were no better than the monsters we fight." Stark throws his hands up.

"Maybe we're not! Maybe we're just as bad as they are!" I'm caught off guard by his outburst.

"What the hell are you talking about? We're nothing like them."

"Every time we get involved, innocent people die. Tell me that doesn't make it sound like we're the bad guys." I shake my head.

No Tony, we're not the bad guys. In fact, the people you threw in prison are some of the few remaining decent people in this world. Yes, people die but that's nothing compared to how many we save. We put our lives on the line for these people but you can't save all of them, that's the hardest part of the job."

"Or maybe we're just not that good at our job." I level a glare at him. "We're supposed to be the good guys, but the people we try to help always end up dead."

"So your solution to us not living up to your standards is to throw them in jail? To turn them over to some bloodthirsty general with a grudge?!" I take a step forward, enraged. "You let your team mates be beaten just because you thought they weren't doing their jobs?" Stark glares at me.

"That's not true! I didn't know what Ross was going to do to them!"

"The hell you didn't! What did you think was going to happen? That he was just gonna let them sit in their cells?" Tony takes a step forward so we're standing face to face.

"I don't know what I thought! But I'm not responsible for what he did to them."

"You might not have been the one holding the knife, but you damn well didn't stop it." I point towards the infirmary doors where my friends are being treated. "You did this to them." Tony shakes his head.

"That is NOT my fault! They knew what would happen if they sided with Cap, they chose their own fate. Don't try to pin that on me." My blood boils as he speaks.

"That's not your fault? That's not your fault?! Stark everything that's happened has been because of you!" My hands clench into fists. "I thought you were trying to make things right, I guess I should've known better." Without another word I turn my back to him and walk into the infirmary, ignoring his angry shouts.

I walk in just in time to see Scott being wheeled into a room by a doctor and I follow them, eager to know the man's condition. I enter the room just as the doctor is walking out and I catch his arm.

"How is he doc?" My anger at Stark is quickly being replaced by concern for my friends and I sigh when the doctor answers.

"He's going to be fine, just needs a few weeks to recuperate." I nod as he leaves, my eyes landing on both occupants of the room. Scott is passed out, fresh out of surgery, and Clint is sitting on top of the sheets of another bed, already going stir crazy. He smiles when he sees me.

"Hey Nat." I grin at the lopsided smile, they've got him all kinds of drugged up.

"Hi Clint." I come to sit down on the edge of the bed and he scoots over to make room for me. His gaze travels to Scott and his smile falters.

"How're the others?" I place a hand on his shoulder, sensing his rising unease at the sight of his wounded team mate.

"They're ok. Wanda and Sam are in another room, but they'll make a full recovery." He lets out a relieved breath before leaning back slightly, his frown deepening.

"And Stark?" I shake my head.

"Don't worry about it." I can see his eyelids beginning to droop, the drugs already starting to take effect. "You need to rest." Clint shakes his head stubbornly.

" 'm not even t'red." He yawns through the sentence, glaring when a grin creeps onto my face.

"Sure you're not." My partner continues to try and keep his eyes open, but he's failing miserably. Finally he leans back onto the thin mattress and I watch as his eyes fall closed.

"I'm n't t'red." He mumbles as he dozes off and I shake my head. The smile slips from my face when my eyes land on the bulky bandages that are clearly visible through his shirt, a testament to the horrors Ross committed while he was in prison. I glance over at Scott lying in the bed across the room and sigh. It's going to be a long road of recovery for them, especially after everything they've seen. But for now all I can do is wait and see how they come out of this.

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 _Well that's it for chapter Eight! I hope you enjoyed it, sorry if it's a little bit short. The ne t chapter will be up in a few days. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long update, but I've been working overtime every other day this week so I haven't had time to write. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner, but I make no promises. Anyway, on to chapter nine!_

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Chapter Nine

Natasha's POV

SEVEN WEEKS LATER

I sigh as I sit by the window looking out into the forest that surrounds the compound where I'm currently staying. Ever since our base was moved from Avengers Tower, the new building has taken on many new occupants. Wanda, Sam, Scott, and Clint have been holed up here ever since they were released from the hospital, which wasn't that long ago. I haven't heard from Stark since our argument in the infirmary, not that I'm complaining. Steve tries to drop by every now and then, but he's not the same man he was before the war started. Every time he sees Clint or one of the others, he heads in the opposite direction, a guilty look in his eyes. Lucky for him that doesn't happen very often: Wanda stays holed up in her room refusing to let anyone come near her, Scott is just now able to get up and move around, and Clint disappears for hours or days at a time, leaving no trace of where he went.

Sam and I are the only ones that have gotten back to some semblance of normality, even though he still walks with a slight limp. The others still haven't found a way to cope. Wanda flinches at every loud noise and won't let anyone touch her. She's stopped talking almost completely, the involuntary fear that electricity will course through her again if she does taking hold, and god forbid she's ever asked to use her powers again. Scott spends most of his time taking it easy, his gunshot wound is still healing and it's still painful for him to move around. Every once and awhile you'll catch him on a good day and you can't even tell that he's hurting, other days the pain is so terrible that he can barely move. At least he is trying to move on and get past everything that happened, Clint is a different story.

Ever since Tony helped label him a fugitive he's been extremely distant, I haven't seen him in days. The second Barton was discharged he fled to the air vents, no one will be able to find him unless he wants to be found. After the first two days of his disappearance I thought for sure that he had gone after Stark for what he did and after three days I was seconds away from sounding the alarm when he finally emerged, if only for a few hours. When he did show up, he wasn't the same. He barely spoke, barely ate, hardly even made eye contact with anyone, his usual cocky attitude was gone. That was four days ago. I haven't even caught a glimpse of the archer since then, not to say that I haven't tried. I've scoured the entire base, checked every crack, crevice, air vent, and rafter that I could find and there's still no sign of him.

I'm starting to get really worried, he's never been like this. Sure there were some pretty rough missions that sent him reeling, but it was nothing compared to what's happening now. Clint has completely shut down, and no one can try to help him because they can't find him. Today that's going to change. I just have to figure out where he is, I've looked everywhere: his room, the armory, shooting range, cafeteria, the roof, hell I've even checked the infirmary. As I struggle to come up with a location, an idea hits me. With a grunt I rise from my seat by the window and walk with a purpose towards the one place I haven't looked.

I walk for a few minutes before coming to a grate in the vents and, with the help of years of practice thanks to Clint, I haul myself up into the shaft. Before the compound had been remade into the new Avengers' headquarters, this was one of Fury's favorite secret bases, as well as Barton's. After a particularly stressful mission in Baghdad the two of us were brought here for treatment, Clint had several broken ribs and a punctured left lung while I was nursing a broken arm and dislocated shoulder, and my partner was having a hard time dealing with the casualties from the mission. The worst by far was the death of a nine year old girl after our target had thrown a grenade into a market in an attempt to draw us away, he wasn't successful. Immediately after he was taken down, Barton went back to the market to survey the damage and found the girl.

It was obvious that she wasn't going to make it, her wounds were too severe, so Clint sat down in the middle of the street and held her in his lap. She died in his arms shortly before I arrived. Needless to say he had a difficult time dealing with her death and sought a hiding place at the base to cope, which he found in a compartment between the walls. Fury had originally built it in case the base was invaded as a safe place to lay low, but it suited my partner's needs. It's roughly a 10x12 room only accessible by air vent and there's a small light hanging from the ceiling, barely casting enough light to fill the room.

I sigh as crawl along through the shaft, if Clint's taking this as bad as he did Baghdad then I've definitely got my work cut out from me. I'm only ten feet from the grate that will be my access into my friend's hiding spot and I can just barely make out the dim light that's shining from the inside, a clear indication that the room is occupied. Slowly I creep forward and pull the covering off as quiet as I can before I stick my hand through the opening. I carefully edge forward until my face is visible, trying not to startle my partner. Suddenly his voice floats through the air.

"I figured you'd show up here eventually." With that I pull myself the rest of the way through the vent and drop to the ground.

"You didn't exactly leave me any choice." He scoffs, his face turned away from me.

"You always have a choice Nat, you just don't always pick the right one." I sigh at the double meaning behind his sentence and slowly walk towards him.

"I know, I thought Stark had the right idea but I guess it was just another shot in the dark." My friend doesn't answer and I sit down across from him, still unable to see his face. As soon as I do, the stench of alcohol hits me full force and I glance around to see at least a dozen empty beer bottles lying on the ground near my partner.

"I'm sorry Clint." He shifts his position slightly, still avoiding eye contact.

"Everyone is." The total sense of hopelessness in his voice is a stark contrast to his usual upbeat attitude.

"Clint everything that's happened to you...I never would've helped Tony if I knew what he had been planning to do." The man next to me continues to stare in the other direction, almost like he's ignoring me. "Damn it Barton, look at me." At first I think that he's just going to keep staring of into space but, after a few moments, he finally turns to meet my gaze. My shoulders slump at the sight of him. His face looks gaunt and hollow from the continuos days without eating and his normally clean-shaven face is covered in stubble. My partner's eyes have a dead quality to them, every sense of joy and optimism has been sucked out of them, and the circles under them are so dark they look black against his pale skin. I can see the edge of a scar from where Ross burned him peeking out from underneath his baggy shirt, the same shirt that was rather form-fitting before all of this. I shake my head in sorrow.

"Clint, what have you done to yourself?" He shrugs, the half full beer bottle in his hand sloshing around noisily.

"I'm coping." There's obvious sarcasm in his tone as he looks at me through half-lidded eyes. I take in his haggard appearance and frown.

"Clint, you have to stop all of this." I motion around the room. "The drinking, refusing to eat, staying locked up in here for days at a time. You're killing yourself."

"So?" I stare at him for a moment in stunned silence, there's no way I heard that right. After a few seconds I realize that my partner was being serious.

"So?" I spit the single word out, disgusted that he would even utter it. "So?! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Loud and clear." Clint turns away from me. "Why does it matter? I mean, I haven't got that much left to live for anyway. My wife, my kids, they're gone. The most important people in my life will never get to see me again. I won't be there for Nathaniel's third birthday, I won't be there to watch Lila and Cooper grow up, I won't be there for mine and Laura's anniversary, I won't get to be there for my family ever again." I sigh and place my hand on his knee.

"Clint, we'll find a way for you to see them again. I promise." He glance over at me.

"How?" I want to answer him, I wish I had some sort of solution that could ease his pain, but I don't. I don't see a way around this, yet.

"That's what I thought." My partner goes to bring the beer bottle to his lips and I reach out, snatching the offending liquid away from him, his reflexes are dulled by the alcohol so it's much easier than it should've been.

"Stop that." My friend rolls his eyes.

"Why? It's not like you're going to need me sober anytime soon, I can't exactly go anywhere." Now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Because eventually this stuff is going to kill you and, despite what you think, I think it would be a good thing if you stayed alive." Clint leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact with me. I let out an exasperated sigh and run a hand through my red hair, unsure of what to do next.

We sit in the room in silence for at least ten minutes before, finally, he speaks.

"It helps me forget." He says motioning to the half full bottle in my hand. I glance down and shake my head.

"Some things aren't meant to be forgotten."

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter nine! I hope you enjoyed it, sorry that it's a little short. Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! Sorry for another long update, but I have a legitimate reason for it. About five weeks ago I was in a car accident and ended up with a broken left arm and several cracked ribs. I'm finally on the mend and will try to get back to a semi-regular updating routine. Thanks to everyone who's stuck it out and is still reading this._

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Chapter Ten

Sam's POV

The Avengers' headquarters are quiet these days, there's really not much to say. Everyone has had a tough time dealing with what happened, Clint and Wanda in particular, and I've decided to try and let them settle things on their own. I've spent the last few weeks either in physical therapy for my leg or wandering aimlessly around the compound, trying to at least attempt to get back to normal. Natasha and I will run into each other in the halls every now and then but there's usually not much of a conversation because she's either preoccupied with finding Clint or trying to control the backlash that the Avengers have gotten from the war.

Things are different now; most of us can't go out in public because we've been labeled as fugitives. The Avengers aren't seen as heroes anymore, according to the government, we're vigilantes. Not to mention the fact that our team is falling apart; Wanda's breaking down, Clint's disappeared again, Steve blames himself for everything that happened, and Scott is barely able to move around. Our once mighty group of heroes has been reduced to a bunch of broken veterans, we went from soaring through the skies to barely being able to keep our heads above water. With everything that's happened, I don't know if we'll ever be able to get back to the way things were before the war, before we lost the will to fight.

I look down at my feet as I limp down the hall, each step accompanied by a slight lurching motion. The doctors said it will heal if I "just give it time," good thing my job doesn't require much walking. Well, it didn't use to. Nowadays I'm not sure if I'm ever gonna be able to use the flight suit again with the whole "the Avengers are fugitives thing." Guess I'll have to find another nickname other than Falcon.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear someone sobbing. I glance around at my surroundings and realize that I've ended up in front of Wanda's room, the sound inevitably coming from behind her closed door. My shoulders slump and I shake my head, trying to decide whether or not I should enter. I told myself that I was going to let her sort things out on her own, but I can't just leave her alone now. With a sigh I knock on the door.

"Wanda?" Of course there's no answer, she just continues sobbing. Slowly I push the door open, careful not to startle the mutant. I step through the entrance, shutting it behind me, and glance around in search of my teammate. After a few seconds my eyes land on a figure sitting in the corner with her back pressed firmly against the palely colored wall.

Maximoff doesn't even look up as I approach. The poor girl has her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, and I can see that her entire form is trembling. I kneel down beside her and speak quietly.

"Wanda." Carefully, I reach out and put my hand on her should. She reacts as if I've just burned her. The girl gasps and presses herself farther against the wall, glancing up to meet my eyes only for a moment. Even in that brief second, the intense fear in her eyes is enough to make me pause. Soon I'm able to recover.

"Wanda it's ok, it's just me. It's just Sam." Slowly I come to sit next to her by the wall, careful not to touch her.

My friend shakes her head and mumbles something under her breath, it's so quiet that I can't even guess as to what she said.

"What?" The youngest Maximoff stays silent, fear coming off of her in waves. I let out a slow breath and repeat the question softly.

"Wanda, it's ok. Just talk to me, I'm not going to hurt you." At first I think she's going to just ignore me but, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks quietly.

"It's not okay." She glances up at me, terror and pain in her eyes. "It will never be okay." Her voice strains and cracks from weeks without use, its sound matches her haggard appearance. Her once sleek hair is jumbled into a mess of knots from the hours spent running her frail hands through it, her normally bright eyes have been drained of their sense of life and have turned an almost dull grey. There are dark bags under her eyes that stand out fiercely against her pale complexion, making her age at least ten years. A frown pulls at the corners of my mouth and I shake me head.

"Wanda, I know things seem bad now, but things are going to get better. Everyone's wounds are going to heal, after a few months Ross will hopefully come to his senses and we can go back to saving the world." The girl next to me shakes her head.

"I shouldn't be saving the world, the world needs to be saved from me." Her words catch me off guard and I stare at her for a moment, stunned.

"Wanda what are you talking about?" My friend shifts uncomfortably for a moment, once again burying her head in her arms. I don't make a move to comfort her, afraid that I'll startle her again. Instead I wait for her to speak which, after a few minutes of silence, she does.

"I'm a monster, Sam." Her words seem to shatter her fragile composure and her emotional walls start crumbling down, bringing all the pain she's endured along with them. The brunette next to me begins to sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping down onto the dark carpet. She curls further into herself as if she's trying to just disappear into thin air. My breath catches in my throat as I try to conjure up something to say, something to soothe her pain. But there's only one sentiment that I can come up with.

"You're not a monster, Wanda, you're a hero." She looks up at me and shakes her head as if the very idea of what I've just said doesn't make sense.

"Do heroes help mass murderers attempt to end the world? Or turn their backs on their friends, or get their family killed? Do they sit back and watch while they're friends are getting tortured, knowing they could stop it? Does that sound like a hero to you, Sam?!" At the volume of her outburst, Wanda freezes up and flinches in fear, waiting for an excruciating electric shock to course through her veins.

Once she realizes that her acts will go unpunished, the girl shrinks back into herself again. "I'm a monster." Her entire body trembles as she utters the words, each syllable shaking as her voice breaks. Immediately I shake my head and scoot closer to her, careful not to make any physical contact with my friend.

"You are NOT a monster, Wanda." My words come out in a quiet whisper as I try desperately to get through to the young female next to me. "Would a monster sacrifice everything they had to stop Ultron from destroying the world? Would a monster stand up to one of the most powerful men in the world to protect what she believed was right? Do monsters endure endless punishment to protect their friends, even if it means that they have to sacrifice their own safety?"

I let out a deep breath, and very carefully move a hand over to Wanda's trembling shoulder. "Tell me kid, does that sound like a monster to you?" She flinches slightly when my hand touches her but I can see that every fiber of her being wants to let go, to end her suffering. For a moment she remains glued to the wall, not even breathing. Then, to my immense relief, the girl shuffles over slightly so that our shoulders are touching. She still won't look me in the eyes, but at least it's a start. It's going to be a long time before things will go back to normal for her, or at least what passes as normal in our screwed up lifestyle. For now I'll just have to settle for sitting next to her, providing what support I can until she lets herself heal.

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Natasha's POV

My fingers drum impatiently against the thin wood table in the kitchen where I currently reside, the repetitive motion helping to ease my blazing thoughts. My green eyes roam over the room as I contemplate my situation. It's been two days since my encounter with Clint in the crawl space and I haven't seen him since, not that that's unusual anymore. I tried checking his hiding spot a few hours ago but it was empty, much to my dismay. The area had been littered with at lease a dozen more bottles than had been there when I'd first arrived and there still wasn't any sign of food of any sort lying around, which worries me. Clint hasn't eaten in at least a week, I'm honestly amazed that he could even lift himself into the vents in the first place.

I'm about to continue my search for the missing archer when, by some miracle, a figure appears in the hallway to my right. It sways slightly on its feet, unstable in its wandering. Finally the figure steps out of the hall, the harsh light of the kitchen eliminating the shadows that had been cast over his features and I'm able to uncover its identity. Clint looks terrible. Every move he makes looks like it takes all of his energy, he's gotten so thin that a light breeze could probably blow him away. He's panting as he takes a step towards me, but before I have the chance to say anything he speaks.

"Nat...help." My partner is barely able to utter the two small words before his legs give out and he crashes to the floor.

In an instant I'm on my feet and sprint to his side, dropping to my knees next to him. He's out cold. I reach out and touch the side of his neck trying to find a pulse, I let out a sigh when I find one. His pulse is weak and thready, but it's still there. Gently I lay my hand on his forehead but immediately pull away when I feel how hot his skin is. I gasp as I run my palm down his arm, feeling his clammy, cold skin beneath it. I need to get him to the infirmary NOW. His whole body is trembling as I grab around his waist and, with much less effort than it should've been, haul the man to his feet. I throw one of his bone arm over my shoulder and start to basically drag my friend towards the infirmary.

My muscles tense from the strain of pulling the man next to me because of his dead weight and it's hard to get a grip on his sweaty skin, leading to several near falls. I've almost gotten to the elevator, when I spot Sam walking down the hall looking slightly somber. I'll have to ask him what happened later but right now I need his help.

"Sam!" At the sound of my distress, the soldier's head immediately pops up to meet my gaze. When his eyes land on the unconscious figure draped across my shoulder, he sprints towards me.

"What happened?!" There's a slight panic in his tone as he throws Clint's other arm over his shoulder, significantly lightening my load. I shake my head, motioning toward the elevator.

"I'll explain later, right now we need to get him to the infirmary." My partner's ragged breathing echoes loudly in my ears as we finally get him into the elevator. My heart beats rapidly in my chest as we slowly, too-slowly, descend. The second the doors open Sam and I each grab onto the man between us, heading towards the infirmary as fast as we possibly can. When we reach our destination, I throw the doors open with a grunt and sprint inside with Sam right behind me. "We need help!"

Upon hearing my outburst, a S.H.I.E.L.D nurse, I don't remember her name, runs up to me.

"What happened?" She leads us to a hospital bed that she instructs us to lie my partner down on.

"He hasn't eaten in the past few days, I'm not sure what else he's been doing. He came into the kitchen and passed out." The nurse nods at me as another agent, an aging man with dark hair, comes to join her. The two of them begin to wheel Clint away and it takes every bit of resolve I have have not to rush after them. Suddenly anger boils up in me at what my friend has done to himself.

"Damn it, Clint!" I turn and knock a cup off of the counter next to me, sending the object flying across the room to hit the wall. Sam's voice echoes behind me.

"Natasha calm down." I whirl on him, my rage at Clint transferring to the man in front of me.

"Don't tell me to calm down! Can't you see how bad this is? He's killing himself!" Wilson puts his hands up in surrender and opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "And don't you dare give me some shit about how it'll all get better with time. We've had time and, guess what, it's not getting any better!" I turn to walk out the door, when Sam reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Nat..." He barely gets the word out before I land a right hook square in his nose, the automatic reaction taking place before I even have a chance to stop myself. I don't apologize, I don't have it in me right now, as I once again turn to leave. As soon as I take a step in the other direction, I'm face to face with none other than Steve Rogers.

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 _Well that's it for chapter 10! I hope you enjoyed it. Once again I'm going to apologize for the long update, but I make no promises that it won't accidentally happen again. Anyways, thanks for reading my story. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	11. Chapter 11

_Hey guys! Sorry for another long update, but it's finally here! It's the last chapter guys! I'm sad to see it end, but it's been a fun journey. Thank you for reading, and without further ado, on to chapter Eleven!_

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Chapter Eleven

Natasha's POV

I stare at the man in front of me, momentarily caught off guard by his sudden appearance, and he gazes back. After a few seconds I regain my composure and take a step back, glancing away from the soldier. Steve looks behind me where Sam is standing, bloody nose and all, and his brows furrow.

"Natasha, what happened?" For a moment I don't answer, I just avert my gaze to the infirmary doors that stand between me and my partner. Captain Rogers immediately recognizes my defeated stance and sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"What did he do?" Steve doesn't have to tell me which "he" the man is referring to, it's written clear across my face just who's waiting behind those closed doors. I shake my head before launching into an explanation.

"He's taking it really hard, I tried to talk to him but he just blows me off. He stopped eating, hasn't drank anything besides alcohol since we got back, he's not sleeping..." I run a hand through my thick red curls in exasperation. "Clint's killing himself and I don't know what to do, there's nothing I can do. He just doesn't care anymore." Sam moves to stand next to me, careful not to make any physical contact in fear that I'll slug him again. I should probably apologize for that later, but it can wait. Rogers closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he reopens them, there's clear evidence of the guilt that's eating away at him in them. I shake my head and immediately start to speak.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this. This isn't your fault, none of this is your fault." Steve meets my eyes and frowns.

"How is this not my fault? The only reason they were in that position in the first place is because they were protecting me! Everything that happens now is just an after effect of that." I'm about to respond, when the infirmary doors open and a S.H.I.E.L.D doctor walks out. The man is in his early thirties with dark hair and an athletic build, he almost reminds me of the man lying in the hospital behind him. He immediately spots our trio in the waiting room and walks briskly towards. The man spares no time on formalities, instead going for the direct approach.

"Clint Barton is awake."

* * *

My muscles twitch as I stand stock-still next to my partner's bed, desperately trying not to strangle the man in front of me. Said man hasn't even glanced at me since I'd walked through his door, he settles his gaze on just about anything that isn't me. Rage boils beneath my skin as I stare down at my friend in his hospital bed, the hospital bed that he has no business being in. The bed that he WOULDN'T be in if he wasn't such an idiot. Finally I can't handle the silence any longer.

"Barton, look at me." My voice reverberates through the small room as a low growl, an almost animalistic sound. Much to my dismay, Clint continues to stare at the wall that has suddenly caught his attention. The action only heightens my already frayed nerves and I snap.

"Barton, LOOK...AT...ME, or I swear to god I'll throw you out that window." Venom drips from my voice as the archer slowly turns to face me, whether out of fear or respect I don't know. Nevertheless I launch into my tirade.

"What the HELL were you thinking?! Letting yourself just waste away until you're nothing but skin and bones, until you're dead? What is this going to accomplish other than getting you killed? Huh?" I motion towards his malnourished body with I frown. "I told you after we rescued you we'd find a way out of this but this, killing yourself, is NOT what meant. For as long as I've known you you've always told me to keep fighting, that when you're going through Hell to keep going, and now you're just going to throw in the towel? After everything that we've been through you're just gonna roll over and let yourself die?" He doesn't respond and I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"So that's it, you're just gonna give up? You've lived through explosions, gunshots, Hell even the god of Mischief himself, and you're just gonna let some jackass General take your life away? You're gonna let one man ruin your life?!" Clint immediately lashes out.

"It's not just my life! It's Lila's and Cooper's and Nathaniel's and Laura's! What that son of a bitch did doesn't just effect my life, it turns theirs upside down. They're going to spend the rest of their lives being ridiculed and cast out because their dad, and husband, is a damn fugitive! They have to live with that now, and it's because of me. I decided to join in on this stupid war and now I never get to see them again!"

"Well maybe that's not such a bad thing!" The sentence leaves my mouth before I can stop myself and I watch as hurt flashes across my friend's face, but I've already gotten this far so I can't stop now. "Those kids look up to you, they see you as this perfect, larger than life figure but that's not you! Not anymore. You haven't been that man for a long time now. The Clint I knew would never just accept defeat, he wouldn't just give up when things got bad. He would keep fighting tooth and nail until he completed the mission, he would always find another way." I take a step towards him, the anger inside me building.

"The Hawkeye that I knew always did what was right, he'd sacrifice everything for the greater good, he fought for what he believed in. That man could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and still stand tall, he could face monsters and psychopaths and just about everything that's evil in this world and not even flinch. And he'd do it with that stupid grin on his face and you wanna know why? Because he was an Avenger, he was a hero and that's what heroes do. They stand up to the bad guys and protect the innocent, even if that meant losing theirs because it's the right thing to do!"

"You're upset about losing your family, I understand that, but that doesn't mean you can turn your back on everyone else who cares about you! These people," I say motion outside the doors."This team, cares about you! And they care whether you live or die, even if you don't. Damn it Clint, they're your family! That group of dysfunctional demigods, super soldiers, scientists...they're your family! And the Clint Barton I knew, the Clint Barton that his kids look up too, would NEVER turn his back on his family." The man in front of me stares at me, stunned into silence. Finally he regains his composure.

"Nat I..." The words catch in his throat, causing him to pause. "I never meant for this to happen, I never thought that.." I cut him off.

"Never thought that we would care? Never thought that this would effect the rest of us?" I run a hand through my hair. "That's the problem, Clint, you didn't think! You got caught up in feeling sorry for yourself and forgot that there are other people in your life!" I plop down into the chair next to his bed, exhausted from the events of the past month, and sigh. We sit in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us daring to break the fragile bond that's preventing another explosion. Eventually though, my partner speaks.

"I'm sorry." I scoff and glance over at him, not saying a word. He sighs before continuing. "It's just that Laura and the kids mean everything to me, having them taken away...it broke me. I just thought that things would be easier if I wasn't around anymore, that the pain would disappear. I never imagined that it would have this many repercussions, I never thought about what this would do to everyone, what it would do to you. It's just..." He lets out another sigh. "I'm sorry, Nat." I exhale slowly before turning to him.

"I know..." I pause, glancing at my friend, and release a slow breath. "Just make me a promise." He nods. "Promise me that, no matter what happens from now on, you'll never give up. That you'll never let yourself get caught up in what happened and forget that you're worth saving." For a minute he stays quiet, his jaw working tirelessly to utter the words. Finally he turns to me.

"I'll try." Those two words release every bit of anxiety and anger that's been building in me since Clint's arrest. It's as if that one sentence can solve everything, can bring everything back to normal.

I'll try. Two simple words have just changed everything, they mark the beginning. The beginning of healing, of normalcy, of the rebuilding of the relationship that was torn apart after the war. I'll try, it's not perfect but it's a start. That's all I can ask for. We once again lapse into silence, only this time it's comfortable. It's not filled with the tension that's been eating away at us for weeks, instead there's a calm that settles over the two of us. A calm that I haven't experienced in years, and it finally looks like things are going to be alright.

* * *

TWO MONTHS LATER

The atmosphere around the Avengers headquarters has changed, there's a certain feeling that's been hanging in the air ever since I talked with Clint. It's like everything completely turned around after that; Scott's almost one hundred percent thanks to some physical therapy, as is Sam. Wanda's finally left her room, she spends most of her time in the lobby with the team even if she still doesn't speak much. Clint has thankfully kept his promise and is now back on the healthy side, but he's still not quiet in top shape, not that I'm complaining. I'll take what I can get. Steve comes to visit more often now and little by little I've watched the haunted look leave his eyes, his spirit slowly returning. Of course no one's heard from Stark, not that we want to after what happened.

For the first time in months, things are starting to get to normal. We still can't be out in public for long, but hopefully that will change with time, and after some clever hacking with the help of Clint's friend Daisy we were able to release a few statements describing what happened. Let's just say General Ross wasn't too happy about those, they actually managed to get some of the public back on our side.

As for the Avengers, we've got a long hard road ahead of us. But that's the thing about us, we always seem to beat whatever stands against us, so I'm optimistic. We've overcome a lot in the last few months and we're finally starting to feel like a team again. Who knows, maybe we'll even be back in action soon. All I know is that we're on the mend, and that's all I can ask.

THE END

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter Eleven, and Broken but not Defeated for that matter. I'm sad to see this story end but all good things must come to an end so... I also just want to thank everyone who's stuck through this story to the end, I appreciate you guys so much! I hope you enjoyed the story! As always reviews are welcome and appreciated. Bye guys!_


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